Apocalyptic Genesis
by ClaireAbernathy
Summary: Volume I: The beginning of a series, taking place primarily in Apocalypse. What if Claire Redfield had been in Raccoon City when the Apocalypse hit? Based mostly on the movie, with some large twists. Alice/Claire. Rated M.
1. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Fandom**: RE: Genesis/ RE: Apocalypse

**Pairing**: Eventual Alice/Claire.

**Rating**: M to be on the safe side. (For now, just for language).

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything to do with Resident Evil. That includes the films, the books based on the films (by Keith R.A. DeCandido), the games, or the books based on the games (by S.D. Perry). I may use any of these as resources/foundations for this story, and no copyright infringement is intended. As I said, I don't own any of those, and this is just for fun. I also don't own _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_, which was written by the genius Lewis Caroll. Any quotes taken from there are obviously not mine, either.

_A/N: Okay, this note is sort of a preface, so bear with me if it's a tad long. This started out as a fic that I've had in the works for essentially three years, but as my writing is often wont to do, it has become something else entirely. Still, it's a project that is very dear to my heart, so I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. The idea of this fic is that it will be a three-volume series, following the movies very closely, but with some obvious and rather huge changes. You'll notice, for one, that this volume is titled "Apocalyptic Genesis" - that isn't so much me trying to be clever as me indicating that this volume is almost like a fusion of the two, in the sense that it begins before Genesis and skips into Apocalypse. The reason for that is I don't intend to make any changes to the plot within Genesis (or, not any major ones), so therefore there is no reason for me to waste a lot of energy rehashing something you've already seen (and potentially read)._

_The timeline of the movies is, as you know, fucked up beyond all reason. Because of that, I'm using my own timeline, and I'm setting this (which happens before Genesis) at more or less the end of August. Apocalypse will be about a month later at the end of September. _

_Thank you for bearing with me. Remember that comments/feedback are always appreciated, and above all, enjoy!_

* * *

**Volume I: Apocalyptic Genesis**

_Prologue_: Down the Rabbit-Hole

xxx

_De corde exeunt cogitationes malae._

("For out of the heart proceed evil thoughts.")

_Matthew 15:19_

xxx

Ever since she was a little girl, Alice Abernathy had always been an early riser. At lot of things had changed since then, but that much at least remained a constant. So it was quite natural, for Alice at least, to be awake and already dressed by quarter past six on a Sunday morning – on her day off, no less – and walking the expansive grounds on which the Spencer Mansion had been built.

Her feet followed a familiar path, easily guiding her through the shroud of darkness that had yet to be banished by the sun. She was headed to what had become her favourite place on the property: a large hill that offered a vantage point from which to overlook not only the grounds, but also the Arklay Mountains, which surrounded the neighbourhood of Foxwood Heights.

As she crested the top of the hill, Alice could see the sun just beginning to break across the horizon; as it did, little streams of gold pierced through the dark, casting ribbons of glowing light upon the earth below. This was the reason why she loved to wake up so early: there was something powerful, something eternal, in the moment when the sun gave life to a new day. It held within it a promise, always, that something good may come. In the chaos that life seemed to constantly inhabit, she found that moment of potential to be comforting. Whether or not she actually believed that it would come to fruition, well, that was a different issue altogether; still, that it existed at all was enough for her.

Alice lingered on her hill for about an hour, simply enjoying the majestic view and the calming sound of a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. The relative silence of the morning was punctuated on occasion by the warble of a songbird, or the odd cry of an eagle flying high above the mountains, carried distantly to her on the wind.

She would have liked to remain there for much longer, but her growling stomach dictated that she must return at last to her place of residence. The Spencer Mansion was built in the early 1960s for an eccentric billionaire by the name of Ozwell E. Spencer: one of the founders of the Umbrella Corporation, the company for whom Alice worked. The mansion was as bizarre as its namesake: it was full of hidden corridors, stairways, and alcoves, strange portraits and statues, and all the other kinds of things one might expect to encounter in a Gothic novel. Its oddities were fascinating, but they also gave it a cold, ghostly feeling that unnerved even Alice, who never had been superstitious.

The true purpose for its creation, however, was to conceal what lay below it: a secret entrance to Umbrella's research facility – the Hive. The facility itself was not kept a secret, because sequestering its five hundred employees underground, without anyone noticing their absence, would be a logistical nightmare that not even Umbrella could hope to undertake. But, due to the highly classified nature of some of their experiments, it was necessary to keep that entrance well guarded, for it gave them a solid line of defence against overly inquisitive individuals, the media's constant scrutiny, and thievery from competing companies.

Alice had just been promoted to Head of Security for the Hive, after having worked for the Corporation for about four years. One of the conditions of her promotion was that she had to endure a requisite three months of what they called "mansion duty," but which she considered to be nothing more than a glorified babysitting job. For those three months, she and another security operative, drawn by lot, had to assume the responsibility of guarding that entrance.

Once she was back inside the mansion, Alice made her way to its enormous kitchen to brew herself a coffee. The other agent who lived with her – a man by the name of Percival Spencer Parks, or "Spence," as he unsurprisingly insisted on being called – was there, making himself an omelette. On the counter opposite him, there was already a cup of freshly-made, steaming-hot coffee waiting for her. On the surface, it might have seemed like a nice gesture, but Alice knew better.

He looked up at her. "Where were you?"

She shrugged and answered simply, "Out."

Spence laughed. "Could you be any more vague, Alice?"

Living in the mansion, she was glad for company. It was a creepy place and not at all somewhere one would want to live alone, but sometimes Spence really got on her nerves. He always wanted to know where she was, or what she was doing, and it was stifling. He liked to say, _'Well, we _are _married; I shouldn't have to wonder where you've gone off to_.' But their "marriage" – if it really could be called that – was all part of Umbrella's cover story, and she felt no more love for him than she did for the mailman.

"If you must know," Alice said, with irritation in her tone, "I was watching the sunrise."

He laughed again, and she wanted to hit him. Spence really was not a terrible guy, and if they had simply worked together, she might not have been so annoyed by him. But she resented the forced marriage, in part because it reminded her that she was twenty-seven and still single, but also because of the aforementioned literal way in which Spence took it. He seemed to forget that it was just a job, and that was all it ever would be.

"I never pegged you as the type," Spence remarked, taking his finished food and settling at an ornate marble table. "You don't seem that sentimental."

Most days, she would have let it slide; today, she was sick of his bullshit. Without a word, she turned on her heel and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

With her back to him, she replied, "Out."

Before she left, Alice made a quick detour to the mansion's library. It was a huge room, full of the type of old books that gave off a musty, aged smell. Those were located on an upper floor, and the shelves below contained newer volumes. Two of them, in particular, were stocked with books that were chosen for Alice and Spence respectively. From her own shelf, she grabbed _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_; with that in hand, she carried on to the hall that led to the front door. She put her coat and scarf on again – living near the mountains made it colder, and it was almost September – and then made her way out to the silver Jaguar that Umbrella had so thoughtfully provided for her.

She started the engine, keener than ever to begin her usual sojourn into town. Once she was on the road, however, her pace became unhurried: one of the things that she enjoyed the most about driving into Raccoon City every Sunday was the two mile commute. The road between Foxwood Heights and Raccoon was rarely busy, and the scenery along the way was all but breathtaking.

The top of the car was down, and the same breeze from earlier ruffled her light blonde hair. It was now just about eight o'clock, and the sun's rays were shining down warmly on her. It was going to be another beautiful day. She was alone on the road, and it gave her the freedom to shut her eyes for a moment and revel in the relief of being away from the mansion. To further separate herself from the place, she slipped off the ring – which had "Property of the Umbrella Corporation" inscribed on its underside – and pocketed it.

Raccoon was actually a rather large city, with a population of over 850,000 people, and it had been growing quite a bit as of late. Umbrella's presence had allowed the formerly small town to flourish within a few short decades, and its progress had not slowed. New attractions and social hotspots popped up almost every week, it seemed, and earlier that month she had happened upon one of them by chance.

It was a quaint little cafe, one of those up-and-coming sorts of places that newspapers liked to write features on, with a surprisingly diverse and enjoyable menu. The ambiance of the place was warm and homey; it was a perfect little haven amidst the urban jungle. There were booths along one side of the small dining area, some tables in the middle, and the opposite side had a number of overstuffed – and extremely comfortable – black leather chairs. The latter was where Alice liked to sit.

Alice approached the counter, and the young girl who always seemed to be working there on Sundays smiled at her as she did.

"Hi there," the girl, whose name was Taryn, greeted her kindly. "What can I get for you? The usual?"

Alice laughed at her own predictability. "Yes, please."

"Comin' right up."

A few minutes later, Taryn brought her a freshly-brewed mug of coffee and large cherry-filled Danish. Alice thanked her and took these to her usual seat. She settled in one of the chairs, setting her food and her book down on the glass coffee table that sat between her chair and the one opposite it.

Sometimes, it bothered her that the other chair always remained empty. Alice had developed a bad habit of neglecting her social life in favour of her work, and with the exception of people like Lisa Broward, she did not have all that many friends to spend time with. Even then, Lisa was more of a colleague than she was a friend.

It was not as if Alice were unlikable or misanthropic; she had just somehow lost track of what it meant to have a rewarding relationship with another person. She was not happy about it, not by any means, but she _had_ reconciled it in her thoughts: she was only twenty-seven; she had plenty of time left to make up for it. And, she told herself, once she was free of "mansion duty" and Spence, her life would become much more interesting.

But other times, Alice liked the privacy that her solitude afforded. She had always been a bit of a loner, even before she had become so focused on her work, and having the time to herself was nice. She got a lot of reading done, and she also quite enjoyed looking up from her book from time to time to watch the interaction of the other patrons. She may have been just as cut off from them as she was when cooped up with Spence, but at least she could see and in some way feel connected to them by being there.

As Alice finished her Danish and opened her book to the first page, she had no idea that everything was about to change.

xxx

About three hours later, at around quarter past eleven, the bell above the cafe door jingled cheerily. As Alice's attention was drawn by the sound, her mind was given to a momentary fancy – which, much to her chagrin, sometimes occurred when she got really into a book – that the new arrival was none other than the white rabbit, and that she might hear, at any moment, a squeaky little voice exclaim, 'Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late!'***** This was absurd, of course, for it was a person – _not a rabbit _– at the door. Nonetheless, the brief moment of imagination excited curiosity in Alice to see just _who had_ come in.

It was a woman, probably a few years younger than Alice, with striking red hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She had a pair of _Ray Ban _aviators in her hands, and she hooked them at the neck of her t-shirt. Her eyes were a remarkably clear blue, unlike any Alice had ever seen before. She wore a red leather jacket that almost matched the hue of her hair; it was unzipped, revealing the _Sex Pistols_ design printed on her shirt, which was cropped short to expose a small strip of pale skin. Her jeans hung low on her hips, clinging to her legs as if painted on. There was something in her gait as she walked, in her deportment in general, that made it seem as if the world were hers, and she did not give a fuck what anyone thought. Yet, it was not arrogance that she exuded, but pure confidence, and it was as striking as her hair.

Alice returned her gaze to the book held in her hands; she had lost her page. She flipped through it until she found the right one again, returning her concentration to it for a while. Alice – _Carroll's _Alice, that is – had just come upon the perpetual mad tea party when a voice interrupted the Alice who was reading the story.

"Hey."

Alice looked up. The woman from earlier now stood opposite her, with a coffee cup in one hand and a plate laden with the contents of the cafe's signature all-day breakfast combo in the other. She had a friendly smile on her lips.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, indicating the overstuffed leather chair across from Alice. "There's no room anywhere else."

Alice looked around. It was true. Since Alice's arrival several hours prior, the entire cafe had filled up - save, of course, for the empty spot in question. That had never happened before, but it was not all that surprising: The cafe was very popular.

"Sure," Alice answered, politely, though her tone was noncommittal. "Be my guest."

"Thanks," the woman said, setting her plate and cup on the table. She settled into the chair and added conversationally, "I appreciate it. I came on a motorcycle, so I can't exactly take this to go."

"It's no problem," Alice replied, turning back to her book with the intent to resume reading.

She had made it through less than a page, however, before she was compelled to look up again.

"I'm Claire, by the way."

The name suited her: it called to mind the clarity of her eyes.

The redhead had begun to eat, but those same eyes were fixed on Alice with expectation, as if she routinely conversed with people whom she was forced to sit across from in crowded cafes. It was an odd concept to Alice, but Claire seemed genuine, so she indulged her.

"Alice."

Claire arched an eyebrow. Her gaze flitted to the book held in Alice's hands, a smirk forming on her lips. As she spoke, it was with a hint of a laugh: "Alice, huh?"

"That's right," Alice replied, though she found herself almost laughing with her. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No, not at all," Claire said. "I've always liked the name Alice."

Not quite sure what to do with that, she turned back to the book. The first time that she had looked at the books which Umbrella had supplied for her, she had noticed it among them. She figured that they had chosen it either because they somehow knew that she had always meant to read it, or because someone in the Corporation had an ironic sense of humour. Or perhaps they had chosen it at random.

Still, she found herself unable to focus on it again, so she glanced back up at the redhead.

Claire took a sip of coffee to wash down a mouthful of eggs; then she commented, "Raccoon City seems to be getting bigger. This place is new."

"So you're not from around here, I take it?" Alice asked.

"No. I'm just visiting my brother," Claire answered, breaking off a piece of bacon. She finished chewing before she continued: "Chris Redfield. Do you know him?"

Alice shook her head. "I don't."

"Anyway, he works with S.T.A.R.S., and he's always telling me that I should sign up, because they could use a mechanic, but I like Buffalo too much to move. And Gus would flip his shit if I left now, after he just finished training me."

Intrigued, Alice arched an eyebrow. "You look young to be a mechanic."

"I'm almost twenty-five," Claire said defensively, as if she were used to getting that response. Then she shrugged, and her voice was lighter, with a hint of humour as she added, "And I've always been good with my hands."

Alice's other eyebrow joined the first. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," Claire confirmed, sipping her coffee. "It is."

The younger woman picked up her toast, taking a bite as her blue eyes swept over the room for the first time since she sat down. She took her time looking at everything, finishing the slice before she finally remarked, "This place is nice."

It certainly was. Especially, Alice realized with a hint of surprise, when she had someone to share it with – even if that someone were a complete stranger.

"I like it," Alice agreed aloud.

Claire finished the last of her bacon, also washing it down with her coffee. She was almost done eating, and it made Alice wonder how much longer she would be staying. Presumably she needed to meet up with her brother soon and would want to, having come all the way from Buffalo.

"So you said you're from Buffalo?"

"Well, I'm living there," Claire explained, "but that's because it's where I went to college. I sorta fell in love with the city and just never made my way back."

Alice added, "Except to visit your brother."

"Yeah, though I really should visit more often," the redhead admitted, looking a bit ashamed that she apparently did not. "But, I mean, gas prices are a bitch, and it's out of the way."

Alice smiled reassuringly. "Hey, I hear you. That must be a long trip."

Claire nodded. She finished the last of her food and said, "It is. I actually stopped off in Detroit last night; crashed on my friend's couch. Chris is at work, so I just planned to meet him during his lunch break, then again tonight after his shift. I guess I'll be killing some time later, too. Know any other good places to eat?"

Alice's smile widened. She did indeed: "Che Buono. I recommend the mushroom risotto with a bottle of Chianti Classico."

The redhead finished her coffee. Then she said boldly, "Hey... this might sound weird, but would you like to go with me? I don't really know Raccoon all that well; it would be nice to go with a friend."

Claire's proposition bemused Alice: it was not so much the invitation itself – or even her use of the word _friend_, which admittedly was a surprise – but rather, it was the way that her request somehow managed to sound at once so very strange and yet also perfectly natural, as if they had not just met. But they _had_.

What really caught her off guard, however, was how very appealing she found the idea of having a friend in this woman... and perhaps even something more. But even though she had the day off, there were a number of protocols that she needed to run through on Sunday evening, in order to be sure that the system was running smoothly as they moved into the new work week. Spence would be pissed if she just blew the responsibility off, and especially if she did so to go to dinner with someone else.

"I'd love to," Alice began, and she really meant it, "but I have a prior commitment."

"Oh. That's alright," Claire said, looking a little embarrassed. "I probably shouldn't have just assumed you would be free..."

Alice reached across the table and laid a reassuring hand on her arm. "It's a work thing. Trust me. I would rather go with you."

This seemed to relieve her, for the brightness returned to her clear blue eyes. She thought about it for a minute and then asked, "Do you come here a lot?"

"Just when I have time off. Usually on Sunday."

The redhead went on: "So, if I came back this way in a month, think I might run into you here again?"

"I don't know," Alice said, truthfully. She almost always had Sundays off, but it depended on when Spence decided to take his own time. At least one of them always had to be at the mansion, unless someone else with the proper authorization covered the shift. "It's possible."

"Great," Claire replied, smiling. She rose from her seat. "I should probably get going. Chris will start to wonder what took me so long."

Alice could not help but retort jokingly, "Won't he figure you're just talking to someone you hardly know?"

The redhead shrugged. "I don't think so. I haven't before."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah," Claire said. "But there's always a first time for everything."

Alice laughed at that. "So it seems."

There was a brief, awkward silence for the first time since Claire had come over to join her. How – was Alice's dilemma – did one say goodbye to a stranger... who was now actually sort of a friend?

As if her body were acting of its own accord, she stood up as well. Then they were walking together out of the cafe, out onto the streets of Raccoon City. The sun was still shining as bright as before, its rays casting pleasant warmth down on them both. Parked in one of the spaces out front was a Harley, glinting in the sunlight.

"Is this yours?" Alice asked, admiring it.

She had always liked motorcycles, though she had never bothered to get a license for one.

"Sure is," Claire said proudly, running a hand over the metal. "I rebuilt it myself. Maybe next time I'm here, I'll give you a ride on it?"

Alice smiled. "I'll hold you to that."

That is, she thought sceptically, if they actually _did _cross paths again.

But Claire seemed assured that they would. The redhead climbed onto the Harley and started it, the machine roaring to life beneath her; she seemed at home there, as if the bike were an extension of herself. Once again, that brilliant confidence shone forth from her.

"Are you sure you can't get out of that work thing?" Claire asked, indicating the back of the motorcycle.

Alice wanted nothing more than to climb on behind her, but life is a little different at twenty-seven than it is at twenty-four: She was well on her way to thirty, to that epitome of adulthood, which made the whim of youth not quite appropriate anymore.

"I really can't," Alice answered, ruefully.

"Then I guess I'll see you in a month?"

Alice nodded. "I guess you will."

"I'll hold _you _to that," Claire replied, mimicking her earlier statement and earning a laugh in doing so. "See you later, Alice."

With that, Claire pulled the Harley out of the parking space and rode away. Alice watched her go; shaking her head, she made her way to her own vehicle.

They _would _meet again, in about a month's time as they said, but neither woman could have imagined the circumstances under which the reunion would occur.

But at the present moment, as Alice headed back to her "home," she found that just as she was comforted by the potential which existed in a new day, so she enjoyed the mere possibility that she might see Claire again at some point.

And if, several days later, when she finally gave in to Spence's advances out of loneliness and a need for human contact, she were imagining that it was the gorgeous redhead's mouth on her own instead of_ his_ and _her _lean body pressing her down into the mattress, well that was just another one of those fancies which Alice could not control. She did not give it a second thought; nor did she consider the repercussions of sleeping with Spence.

For not even Alice, who thought she knew him adequately well after living with him for two months, could have fathomed the evil of which Spencer Parks was capable.

* * *

***** _That is a direct quotation from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, chapter 1 (Down the Rabbit-Hole). You can expect many references to this and Through the Looking Glass, because I'm a nerd and ever since I heard Paul say on the commentary to Genesis that he had intended to make it as an Alice allegory, I have considered that absolutely canon. (Also, my quote at the top - the latin portion anyway - was taken from Don Quixote. Random tidbit, I know. Yay English majors).  
_

_So, what does everyone think?  
_


	2. It's All Fire and Brimstone, Baby

**Fandom: **Resident Evil: Apocalypse

**Pairing**: Eventual Alice/Claire

**Rating: **M (coarse language, graphic violence)

**Disclaimer**: See first chapter. (As a special note, however, the second part of this chapter is based quite a bit on Resident Evil 2 and S.D. Perry's novelization of it. I own neither of those). I also don't own "The Mission" by Puscifer, from which this chapter title is derived.

_A/N: So from this point on, I will be alternating between Alice and Claire's perspective depending on which is necessary for that particular part (so basically, not by any set pattern). Claire, as we all know, likes her expletives, so there will henceforth be a lot of foul language. I apologize in advance. Also, if Claire's voice seems very different from Extinction, well, that's because she's still 24 here, and she changes (and grows up) a lot in the 5 years in between. _

_This also takes place in the context of the films, so graphic violence is unavoidable. If that bothers you, be warned. _

_

* * *

_

**Volume I: Apocalyptic Genesis**

_One_: It's All Fire and Brimstone, Baby

xxx

_The lights are red, but we're gonna keep dancing._

_All the people are dead, but we're gonna keep dancing. _

~Zombie, The Trucks

xxx

Claire Redfield had always loved working with her hands. She could never have spent her life in an office, twiddling her thumbs all day, because there was just something satisfying about putting in a hard day's work and seeing the physical product that resulted from it. Her favourite thing was when she finished a new bike – even if it were for someone else – and got to test it out. Human ingenuity fascinated Claire, and she loved being a part of it, even if only in a miniscule way.

Today, however, Claire thought that working in an office might not be so bad. A bizarre heat wave was working its way across the country, despite the fact that it was almost October, and Buffalo had not been spared. Her work jumpsuit was heavy and stifling, and part way into her shift she had zipped it all the way down to her abdomen, despite the fact that she had not bothered to clothe her upper body in anything but a black bra. It was just too damn _hot_, and she had damn good abs, so she had just said, _'Fuck it.'_

She was leaning over an engine, in the process of trying to figure out why it was making a strange noise, when she heard Gus clear his throat, followed by his gravelly voice.

"Claire, how many times do I gotta tell you? This may only be a garage, but we've got the damn dress code for a reason. The jumpsuit isn't gonna protect you if it's not zipped up," he lectured, with a stern look on his aged face. It was not an unkind one, though: Gus liked to pretend he was a tough old bastard, but really he was just a big teddy bear.

As he came around to stand beside her, he said in a quieter voice, "Also, some of the fellas who work here aren't exactly gentlemen, and you remind me too much of my own little girl."

She would have scoffed at the 'little girl' bit, but arguing with Gus was really not worth it. And she knew that he meant it as a term of endearment, anyway. So she grudgingly zipped the jumpsuit back up, even though she could feel the immediate difference in temperature upon doing so.

He pointed a warning finger at her. "Don't let it happen again."

"Sorry Gus," Claire said, but from the look he gave her, she could tell that he knew it was not a genuine apology.

He shook his head and muttered gruffly, "Sorry my _ass_."

With a laugh, Claire went back to examining the engine. She figured out the problem not long after, and by noon she had returned it to working order. Break times were somewhat informal, but she usually took hers around then, so she headed to the small lounge room that was adjoined to the garage.

"Lounge" was perhaps too generous of a word: it consisted of a table with four chairs at it, a ragged old couch and armchair, a bar fridge, and a TV that had been past its prime in the 1980s. Zeke and Jones were sitting on the couch, fighting over whether to watch the news or a re-run of Law and Order. They were weird guys, but they were also the best friends that she had at the garage.

Jones eventually won, and he flipped the channel to the news. He had a strange fascination with the news, as well as a funny habit of coming up with the most ridiculous conspiracy theories while watching it. His current one was some spiel about the Umbrella Corporation doing secret research and selling weapons on the black market. She and Zeke had learned long ago to just nod along with him when he went on one of those rants.

"Hey, get a load of this, Claire," Zeke said, pointing at the screen. "Isn't that where your brother lives?"

Claire frowned and hurried over to the TV. Jones turned up the volume.

The reporter was saying, _"Earlier this morning, a bizarre wave of killings began sweeping Raccoon City, and it now appears to be increasing rapidly in severity. An alarmed citizen stated that 'it's as if people are just going mad,' and added, 'I saw a man take a bite clean out of a friend of his, like he was trying to eat him.' When we contacted them, the Raccoon City police were evasive about the issue, but they did disclose that a few weeks prior, there had been reports of strange activity in the Arklay mountains, and that it and the murders may have some connection to a known cannibalistic cult in the area. We'll be sure to keep you updated when we receive a proper explanation. In other news..." _

Claire tuned the rest out. Cannibalistic murders in Raccoon City? Sure, Raccoon had its fair share of deviants... but cannibals? Something was definitely not right.

"Wow. Shit, man, that's intense," Zeke commented. "You should probably call Chris and, y'know, see if he's okay."

"He's fine," Claire insisted, shaking her head. But the more she thought about it, the more a feeling of dread began to coil in the pit of her stomach. "But I guess it never hurts to just check in on him. Make sure he hasn't given himself a heart attack on all that take-out he eats."

Jones laughed. "From what I know of the guy, that's a good idea."

"I'll be back in a bit, guys," Claire said, as she headed out to the employee locker room. After retrieving her cell-phone from her bag, she made for the exit of the garage, because it was way too loud inside to carry on a phone call. And she always got shitty reception in there, anyway.

"Where do you think you're going?" Gus called after her.

"I just need to call my brother," she replied. "Be back in a sec."

Once outside, Claire punched in Chris' number with unsteady hands. Like it or not, she was freaked out. She had not heard from him in about two weeks, she realized, and that was actually quite odd for Chris. Ever since their parents had died, he had made a point of looking after her. When she was in college, he had even helped to pay for her tuition. Now, he often left rambling messages on her answering machine or sent her strange, two-sentence e-mails, or when he was not as busy, called to tell her about whichever dipshit had managed to get himself stuck in the Arklay mountains that time. But no matter how he chose to communicate with her, he never just _stopped_ like that. Not for two weeks, anyway.

The phone began to ring, and Claire bounced on her heels. _Come on Chris, pick up. _It rang, and rang, and then she got the generic robotic voice telling her that the number was unavailable at this time.

"Dammit," she cursed aloud. "Why don't you have a fucking cell phone, Chris?"

So she dialled every other number in Raccoon that she could think of. Nothing.

"Oh come on, _someone_ has to be home."

But even the police station – whose number she had learned in case anything should happen to Chris – gave no response. That was not just weird; it was plain freaky. A major city like Raccoon should have answering machines.

All but in a panic, Claire went back into the garage and made a beeline for Gus. He looked up at her as she approached, and his features immediately contorted with concern, ostensibly at the expression on her face.

"Whoa there. Where's the fire?"

"I can't get a hold of Chris," she said. "Or anyone in Raccoon City. And with those strange killings that have been going on..."

He put a large, comforting hand on her shoulder. "Relax, Claire. I'm sure it's just some malfunction with the phone lines. But if you're really worried, take off the rest of the week and go check on him. You were due for some time off, anyway."

"Thanks Gus," Claire said, kissing him on the cheek. "You're the best."

"Damn right. And don't you forget it."

As Claire went to get the rest of her stuff and change back into her street clothes, she resolved to make the trip to Raccoon immediately. It would be about six hours to get there, maybe less if she hurried, but she had ridden for longer than that before anyway. At least once she got there she could find Chris and set her mind at rest. He would probably laugh at her for being ridiculous, but she would rather endure his teasing than be wrong and find out that something _had _happened to him.

She said a quick goodbye to the guys and hastened to the parking lot out back to get her Harley. She already had everything that she would need for the trip, so she decided not to bother with going to her apartment, figuring that it would just be an unnecessary delay. What she did not realize was that she would never see it or any of her friends in Buffalo again.

At present, however, as she started the Harley and began the long ride to Raccoon, a smile drifted onto her lips as she realized that she might even get to see Alice again, while she was there. Alice still owed her dinner at Che Buono. And after that, well, who knows.

xxx

It took only a few minutes upon entering Raccoon City for Claire to realize that something was very, very wrong: It was a weekday, but the city was dead.

Everything was eerily still, and it was a while before she even saw any people on the streets. They looked like they were drunk, stumbling about uncoordinatedly, but the weird part was how silent they were. Drunk people usually talked and yelled and made all kinds of commotion about themselves; these did not.

Still, she had not come to gawk at drunk people, so Claire continued on. She was keen to find Chris, but she had been on the road for so long that her ass was killing her, and she never had eaten lunch. Her stomach growling loudly at her settled it: She would stop by the cafe first. Alice had said that she was usually there on Sundays, but there was always the off chance that she might be there now.

As Claire pulled up in front of the cafe, however, she changed her mind: She hoped to God that Alice was _not_ in there. The front windows were smashed and blood smeared the broken sections that remained. From outside, she could see that the tables were upturned and everything was in a state of utter disarray.

She cut the Harley's engine and hopped off. With dread welling in her chest, she stepped carefully around the splintered door, which hung askew on its frame.

It looked like a horror movie set: blood doused the room – so much blood, and yet no bodies. She searched through the collapsed booths and overturned tables, her heart beating harder in her chest each time she did. When Claire was adequately assured that Alice was not there, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Claire cast a glance at one of the leather chairs: It was scratched and torn, as if someone had been ripping at it with his or her nails, and pieces of stuffing were sticking out in odd places. It was hard to think that not so long ago she had been sitting in one of them, while the cafe buzzed with life.

"What the _fuck_ happened here?" she wondered aloud.

Generally, at least to her knowledge, murder scenes tended to have victims. Or something.

A curious* wail came from behind the counter, and Claire gave a start at it. It sent a shiver down her spine, because if a _person _had made that sound, whoever it was had to be _seriously_ fucked up.

Claire had seen enough horror movies to know that this was the part where the poor, unsuspecting character went searching for the sound, just to meet with an untimely death. But this was real life, not a movie, and there might be someone in trouble back there. So she steeled her shoulders and approached the counter.

She put her hands on top of it and leaned over to see behind it.

"Holy shit," Claire gasped, her eyes widening.

It was one of the employees: the girl who had served her almost a month ago, to be exact. Her eyes were covered in a white film, and half of the skin on the right side of her face had been shorn off to expose glistening bone underneath. A gaping hole looked as if it had been _bitten _out of her throat, and another gurgling wail issued from somewhere inside it.

Then the girl was rising brokenly to her feet, her hands reaching out for Claire, and Claire almost fell over backwards in her haste to get away.

_Since when does Raccoon City have fucking zombies? _

Her feet slid in a puddle of blood as she hurried out, but she managed not to fall. Out on the street, she scraped the bottom of her boot off on the curb until it was almost clean again.

Farther down the road, she could see another drunken group of people lurching about. Except they were _not _drunk: they were zombies, too. For as they got closer, she could see that each one had great rips and tears in his or her face and body, and they all made that horrible, disturbing moaning sound, which the roar of her Harley had drowned out before.

Without a second's hesitation, Claire climbed back on her motorcycle and started the engine, and she made sure to give the horde a wide berth as she drove around them. Her mind was reeling, trying to figure out what she needed to do; if the rest of the city were like this, Chris could be almost anywhere.

Before she could find him, though, she figured that she had better get a gun or something to defend herself with. She searched her memory and after a moment recalled that there was a weapon shop just a few blocks away from where she was, so she turned down another road and headed in that direction. The further into town she went, the more she noticed the afflicted people. Whatever it was that had happened, it must have happened _fast_: The scale of the disaster was far beyond what the news had suggested.

Claire was happy to find that the street on which the weapon shop was located was abandoned – for now, anyway. She parked her Harley out front of it and was just getting off when she noticed something moving in her peripheral vision.

She turned to look at it.

Or rather, at _her_: It was a blonde woman dressed in what appeared to be a hospital gown and a lab coat, clutching a shotgun unsteadily in both hands. Her feet were bare, and she was stumbling with every step. However, she was not zombified like the others.

Claire noticed that it looked as if one of her knees were about to give out, so she hurried over to the woman. Her timing was perfect, for she just managed to catch the stranger in her arms. But as the blonde turned her head up to look at Claire, she realized that it was not a stranger at all.

"Christ," Claire breathed in disbelief. "_Alice_? What happened to you?"

* * *

*_If you see me write the word "curious" in a context like this, where it might not make sense with its usual meaning, keep in mind that I'm using it to mean "strange." The same applies to the word "queer," should I happen to use it._


	3. Reckoning

**Fandom**: Resident Evil: Apocalypse

**Pairing**: Eventual/Subtextual Alice/Claire

**Rating**: M (coarse language, violence, suggestive themes)

**Disclaimer**: (see first chapter). Also, I don't own "Reckoning" by Killswitch Engage, which inspired this chapter title. Nor do I own The Dark Knight (which is a brilliant movie, by the way).

_A/N: Just so that no one gets confused, this chapter actually backtracks to the end of Genesis/beginning of Apocalypse when Alice wakes up in the hospital. It may seem like it's just filler, but I've chosen to do it this way because you really need to know what's going on in Alice's head through all of this. As always, I'd love to hear what you think, and above all, enjoy!  
_

* * *

**Volume I: Apocalyptic Genesis**

_Two_: Reckoning

xxx

_"Some men aren't looking for anything logical. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn."_

-Alfred, _The Dark Knight_

xxx

Alice awoke to the most incredible, blindingly searing pain, unlike any that she had ever felt before. An agonized cry tore from her throat as she sat up; her hands reached, desperate, to remove the source of the sensation. As she ripped the various wires, needles, and tubes from her body, it caused the pain to flare white hot before mercifully subsiding to a much more tolerable, dull throb.

Once relieved of the torturous things, she tried to step down from the table that she was on. Her limbs, however, were like Jell-o, and her legs collapsed uselessly under her as she slid off from it. Disoriented and dizzy, Alice crawled back on the floor; the sheer whiteness of the room did nothing whatsoever to help her gain her bearings. She tried again to stand, and this time she was more successful. Leaning on the table behind her, she managed to pull herself upright.

She stumbled forward, toward a mirror in the middle of an impossibly white wall. She put her hands against it and moved close, trying to see through, convinced that it was a one-way window.

"Who's in there?" Alice demanded, banging her fists on it. "Let me out! _Let me out_! _Who's in there?_"

The final exclamation caused a sharp stab of pain to vibrate through her skull again, and she raised a hand to her head, leaning on the mirror in an attempt to make the world stop spinning. Memories started to flash behind her eyes rapidly, as vivid as if they were happening at that very moment.

_She fought to keep the men in Hazmat suits from taking Matt away, but there were too many of them. Each man who fell was replaced by another; it was inevitable that they overpowered her. They held her down and sedated her with some kind of drug, but in her partial consciousness, she could hear Cain's voice: _

"_I want her quarantined. Close observation and a full series of blood tests. Let's see if she's infected. Take her to the Raccoon City facility; then assemble the team. We're reopening the Hive. I want to know what went on down there. Just do it." _

She shook her head in an attempt to clear it, but the visions continued unbidden.

"_Prepare her for exposure."_

_She was strapped to an operating table. Lights, bright lights, shone above her, blinding her. There were men and women beside her with clipboards in their hands, looking at the monitors to gauge her progress. They injected her with the T-virus, over and over again. It hurt; she wanted it to stop. But she was helpless, forced to watch as they turned her and Matt into freaks of nature. _

_Isaacs was there; so was Cain. _

_It was the latter who insisted, "Up the dosage. Just do it."_

_The more they put the virus into her body, the more it felt like her very essence was changing, like her DNA itself was being altered. Every fibre of her being felt as if it were on fire: it seared so painfully that she fell in and out of consciousness. _

Alice blinked and she was back in the white room. Although she felt nauseated by the constant ache that permeated her body, the dizziness had at least abated.

She remembered everything now, and she was _angry_: at Isaacs, for he was the one who carried out the inhumane tests, but especially at Cain, for he was the one pulling the strings. If she found them – once she got out of there – then so help her, she was going to kill them both.

With purpose, though still with difficulty, she walked back over to the gurney and ripped off one of the needles. With it in hand, she approached the only door in the room. It required a key-card to open, but she recalled that Cain – the dumb bastard – never had fixed a fault in the locks, which she had told him about months ago. With sufficient force concentrated in just the right spot, anyone could jam the mechanism and cause it to open. Using the needle, she did precisely that. It had the desired effect: the lock clicked and the door swung ajar.

Staggering, Alice slowly made her way out. She was in the Raccoon City Hospital, a place that she knew very well. She had been there many times before, though never as a patient.

No. Not a patient, but an experiment: yet another one of Umbrella's sick little playthings.

Alice followed the long corridor to a stairwell, and with her hands gripping the railing feebly, she progressed as best she could down the steps. Her muscles still ached and trembled, though not from atrophy, but rather the opposite: They had become something new, and adjusting to it was painful.

It felt like an age before she reached the ground floor. By the time she did, she was starting to feel stronger, and she moved with less difficulty. The door to one of the rooms that she passed was open, and inside she found an abandoned lab coat. Alice was just pulling this on as she stepped out the front doors of the hospital, when her eyes widened at the sight in front of her and she stopped in her tracks.

Raccoon City was in utter ruin.

The streets were littered with debris. Cars were smashed and piled upon each other. Bicycles, motorcycles, buses, and all kinds of other vehicles were choking the road as if there had been one massive crash and they had all fallen like dominos. Pavement was cracked. Garbage cans were overturned. Streetlamps and telephone poles had fallen over. Everything was on fire. She looked higher and saw that the surrounding buildings were, too. Windows were broken out; blood was smeared everywhere. It was chaos.

But there were no bodies.

If she had believed in God, she might have thought that this was the damnation of humanity – a day of reckoning. But she knew better than that. This was something that could only have resulted from the perversity that was Umbrella _playing God_. They had opened the Hive like they had said, and now they were watching their number one weapon in action. She would bet anything on it.

Careful to avoid anything that might injure her bare feet, Alice began to pick her way through the insanity. It was like being in a waking dream: too impossible to seem real but too real to be a figment of her imagination.

Her eyes fell on a copy of the _Raccoon City Times_, with a headline that read: _THE DEAD WALK!_

That clinched it. The assholes really had let this happen.

Knowing what to expect, Alice ducked into a nearby police car to look for a weapon. She was in luck, because there was a pump-action shotgun sitting on the passenger seat. With shaking hands, she picked it up and pumped it.

But if there really were almost a million undead crawling around out there, she was going to need a hell of a lot more than that. Not to mention, she needed some clothes. After thinking for a few minutes, she remembered a place called _Fremlin's Surplus and More_ that was on Bayliss Way. It would be a significant walk from where she was, but it was the closest store that she could think of.

Getting there was a blur. Everything looked the same, equally destroyed almost beyond recognition, but her feet somehow managed to carry her in the right direction. The undead were eerily absent. As she walked, she saw but a few of them, and when she arrived at her destination, it was also empty of the forsaken creatures.

When Alice heard the roar of a motorcycle, she thought for a moment that she might be hallucinating.

And then the world began to spin again. Alice felt her legs give out, but there was no pain from a fall. Everything swam in and out of focus, and at first she was scarcely aware of the person who had caught her.

That is, until that person spoke.

"Christ," her saviour breathed, out of shock. "_Alice_? What happened to you?"

The voice was familiar, though Alice had heard it only once before. She turned her head up toward its source: Claire Redfield. After the rollercoaster of emotions that Alice had been on as of late, from confusion to fear to horror to anger, the relief that she felt upon seeing a friendly face left her so giddy that she almost burst into laughter.

Alice's relief, however, was overshadowed a moment later by a sudden spasm of her muscles and a crawling sensation under her skin. It was like something was trying to scratch its way out from the inside, and it hurt. Worse than that, it itched horribly. But then Claire rubbed a soothing hand over her arm, as if to keep whatever it was at bay, and impossibly it seemed to work. The feeling abated and did not return.

Claire traced one of the lesions on her skin and asked, "Are you okay? Who's the motherfucker that did this to you?"

"It was Umbrella – the T-virus," Alice explained. "They injected me with it. I don't think that I'm even human anymore."

"The T-virus? Not human?" Claire repeated, her eyes narrowing in confusion. "Alice, I don't understand. What are those things out there?"

Alice sighed. "It's a long story."

Claire's gentle fingers brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "Never mind. Let's just get you some clothes first, okay?"

With help, she was able to stand again. She leaned on Claire as they made their way into _Fremlin's_, and the younger woman set her down on a chair, before beginning to search the room for suitable attire. Alice watched her move, comforted by the presence of a human being – that is, one who was not going to try to eat her or fuck around with her DNA.

Claire looked tired, and Alice surmised that she had probably ridden non-stop from Buffalo to get there. Her auburn hair had been mussed by the wind, and she ran a hand absently through it as she perused the contents of the store. She wore the same red leather jacket as before, a Metallica t-shirt, and tight black pants, the knees of which were scuffed, ostensibly from her haste to keep Alice from hitting the pavement. That Claire seemed to give little thought to her own exhaustion in her willingness to help was remarkable, as was the way that she went about it as if it were the most natural thing that she could do.

It is often the smallest of things which give us the greatest sense of our humanity: kindness, for example, being one of them. Though Alice may well have been physiologically inhuman, the affection that she felt for Claire, especially upon witnessing her selflessness, provided Alice with a lifeline: one vital reminder that at least her soul – if she believed in such a thing – was still human. It gave her back a measure of what had been stripped from her, and she clung desperately to it.

"What size are you?" the redhead asked a while later, as she was thumbing through a rack of jeans.

Feeling more like her old self – or as much as she could, given the circumstances – Alice jokingly scoffed at the question. "As a woman, you should know not to ask that."

"Well, excuse me," Claire said, with her hands at her hips and an obstinate smirk on her lips. "But none of these jeans have '_skinny as fuck_' written on the label."

Alice surprised herself by actually laughing at that. There was a sense of normalcy to the younger woman's banter, and words could not describe how glad she was for it.

Claire tossed a pair at her. "Here. I think these should fit."

Alice glanced at the label. They _were_ the right size.

While the younger woman busied herself with finding a shirt for her, Alice slipped them on; they were actually very comfortable. She pulled off the lab coat, and never one to be bashful about her body, she removed the flimsy hospital slip, too.

When Claire came back with an orange tank top in one hand and a green mesh shirt in the other, she raised an eyebrow at Alice's state of undress. Alice noticed that her eyes wandered a fair bit before she commented, "Well, you _look _human to me."

"That's good to know," Alice replied, smiling as she accepted the offered garments. She put them on, too, and added, "We should take whatever weapons we can. We're going to need them."

"No shit," Claire agreed.

The store still had a lot left in it: There were guns of all types and sizes, knives, holsters and belts, everything they needed.

Alice strapped a holster to each of her legs, putting a loaded nine-millimeter handgun in both. Then she pulled on a shoulder harness, equipping it with two submachine guns at her sides and a twelve-gauge shotgun on her back. It was nowhere near enough, but it was all she could carry without slowing herself down.

Once finished, Alice turned to see how Claire had chosen to outfit herself. She had an Ithica 37 sawed-off shotgun slung over her shoulder, a sixteen-inch Timber Rattler Bowie knife hanging from her belt, and she was currently loading an AMT Hardballer Longslide – a .45 calibre magnum with a ten-inch barrel. Claire apparently had a thing for big weapons.

"Think you can handle that?" Alice asked, more than a little surprised.

"I don't think," Claire said, putting it into a holster at her thigh. "I know. I have one like it at home."

Alice arched an eyebrow. "And that knife?"

The redhead shrugged. "It's practical, and you don't have to reload it."

She had a point: Even armed to the teeth, they could not carry enough bullets to fend off this many undead.

"Okay, let's get going," Alice said. She had no idea what the plan was, but staying still was definitely not an option. Outside, she smiled as she remembered the promise that Claire had made to her about a month ago. Turning to the younger woman, she quipped, "I guess I get that ride after all."

* * *

_In case anyone thinks that I chose a really freaking weird name for the store, it actually is called Fremlin's in the movie. And it really is on Bayliss Way. Yes, I pay attention to weird little details. Don't mind me._

_And just as a side note, for those who might struggle a bit with what to say in a review: I absolutely love to hear that you enjoyed it and that you want me to continue, but it's also really helpful (and enjoyable) when you give specific reasons/examples why (e.g. a particular plot-point, a line of dialogue, the phrasing of a certain passage, etc)._ _So I encourage you to comment with whatever it is that you're thinking while you read - if you're really surprised by something, whichever is your favourite part, or anything else that comes to mind - just to give me a little more to go on as I try to make this the most entertaining story for you as I possibly can. __I appreciate every single bit of input, and thanks again for already showing so much support for this story. It means a lot to me.  
_


	4. This City Is Contagious

**Fandom**: RE: Apocalypse

**Pairing**: Eventual/implied Alice/Claire

**Rating: **M (coarse language, violence)

**Disclaimer**: (see chapter one). I also don't own The Cab's "This City is Contagious."

* * *

**Volume I: Apocalyptic Genesis**

_Three: _This City is Contagious

xxx

_Acts of injustice done_

_Between the setting and the rising sun_

_In history lie like bones, each one._

~_The Ascent of F6_, W.H. Auden

xxx

"Did you hear that?"

Claire had to strain just to hear Alice's question over the roar of the motorcycle, much less whatever it was that she had apparently heard. In fact, she was only able to make out the older woman's words because they had been spoken against her ear, so close that she could feel Alice's lips brush her skin.

"No," she said. "What was it?"

Alice seemed to have no trouble hearing her, however.

"It sounded like gunfire," Alice explained, taking one of her hands from Claire's waist to point in the direction of the Raven's Gate Church, just up ahead of them. "In there."

Claire stopped in front of the church, cutting the engine; sure enough, the racket of gunshots issued out from within it. She turned back to glance at her passenger with an expression of wonder on her face.

"How the hell did you hear that?"

"It's hard to explain," Alice replied. "But I'll try later. Right now we should help whoever is in there."

Claire looked over to the front doors of the building, outside of which was gathered a fairly decent crowd of undead. The creatures were scratching and clawing at the thick wooden barrier, trying to get inside. She and Alice could take them on with little difficulty, but by the time they dispatched them all, it might already be too late. They needed to find a different way in.

"I have an idea," Alice began, as if reading her mind. "Break through one of the ground-floor windows, and I'll meet you inside."

"How are you going to get in?"

Alice's response was enigmatic: "Don't worry about that."

Reluctantly, Claire climbed off the Harley. She spared one last, quick glance at the older woman before she took off, jogging through the courtyard of the church. She dodged a few errant undead and soon found a suitable window to enter through. She used the butt of the Ithaca to break it in, feeling a little bad for doing so. It had been a beautiful stained-glass window; now it was a just a pile of colourful shards on the ground.

She stepped through it, careful not to nick herself on any remaining pieces in the frame. The sound of more shots was coming from what she figured was the main hall of the church, and she willed her legs into a full run, hurrying in that direction. Adrenaline replaced the tiredness that she had been feeling earlier, particularly as she drew closer to her destination. It was only then that she realized something terrible might be in there, and the possibility made her heart beat harder in her chest.

Claire arrived in the hall just in time to see Alice come crashing through one of the upper windows on her Harley. She landed it in the middle isle between the pews, knocking some huge creature out of the way in the process.

Alice turned the bike skilfully around in a wide arc, and then she said, "_Move_."

At her authoritative command, the two women who had wandered back into the isle stepped out of the way. Alice revved the engine while holding the motorcycle in place; she then let it go, doing an impressive back-flip off of it. The bike surged forward without her, colliding with the creature and launching both mutant and machine into the air.

Claire gaped as Alice pulled the two handguns out of her holsters and shot at it. Just like that, the Harley that she had spent three years rebuilding went up in a wall of flame.

When the explosion cleared, Alice calmly began to fire her submachine guns at the wall above the giant wooden crucifix, and as it fell, it pinned one of the creatures – which looked like some kind of fucked up skinned toad – beneath it. Another one approached from the side, and Alice kicked a pew at it. Then she raised her shotgun and blew it away. She pumped the weapon and walked to the thing beneath the cross, reducing its large brain to pulpy mush with one well-aimed shot.

Regaining her senses, Claire advanced on Alice with ire flashing in her eyes. "What the _fuck _did you do _that_ for? You _knew _how much that bike meant to me, Alice."

The blonde smiled innocently. "I'll buy you a new one."

"Damn fucking right you will," Claire said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at her. "And don't think for a goddamn second that I'm going to forget what you just did."

Alice's smile widened; she tilted her head a little, with a charming sparkle in her bright blue eyes. "I'm sure I can make it up to you somehow."

"Are you two quite done?"

Claire turned to look at the woman who had spoken and realized that she knew her. Surprised, she said, "Jill?"

"Last I checked," Jill replied. "Nice to see you too, Claire."

There was another dark-haired woman standing nearby, with a camcorder in her hands. She was holding it up, capturing everything that they did on video. She asked, "You two know each other?"

"Yeah," Claire confirmed. "She works with my brother. Jill – have you seen Chris?"

"No. He was transferred out to L.A. two weeks ago. He didn't tell you?"

Claire rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Obviously not."

Jill ignored her tone and continued: "Two weeks ago, a couple went missing while hiking in the Arklay mountains. Chris and I went to investigate, and when we found them, we saw that they had been torn to bits by a coyote. Which wasn't all that abnormal, except that they got back up again and tried to bite us. It made no sense at the time, but we reported what we found, anyway. As soon as we did, Umbrella shut us down in an instant. Then, next thing I knew, I was fired and stripped of my badge, and Chris was shipped off to L.A. My bet is that they've been keeping him quiet."

It made sense, but it was ridiculous. Umbrella should not have been able to send her brother away _and _keep him from contacting her.

"Can they really do that?" the woman with the camera asked, wide-eyed.

"They can," Alice said, speaking for the first time in minutes. "And a whole lot more."

"Not to interrupt or anything," Peyton began, stepping forward to draw their attention, "but I think it would be wise to get the fuck outta here."

Claire turned to look at him. She had not even noticed that he was there, until now. He was another member of S.T.A.R.S., whom she had met once or twice when visiting Chris. He was a nice guy, and she was glad to see that he had survived this whole mess.

"He's right," Alice agreed. "We should get moving."

They needed no further convincing: no one wanted to be there if and when any more of those creatures showed up – or anything else, for that matter. Jill led the way – because it was just like her to want to be in charge – and soon they had found a suitable exit near the back of the building, from which they managed to slip out unnoticed.

The back yard of the church led to a cemetery; as they ventured into it, Claire thought that there was something inherently odd about walking around in a graveyard when the city was full of the living dead. She also could not shake an eerie sense that nothing good could come from it, but nonetheless they continued to make their way through. After all, given that they had no idea where they were trying to get to, the path that they took mattered very little. And it beat the hell out of backtracking the way that they had already come.

Jill and Peyton took point, but their pace lagged somewhat because his leg seemed to be giving him a lot of trouble. Claire and the dark-haired woman followed a little ways behind them, and after talking to her for a bit, Claire learned that her name was Terri Morales. As she went on to say that she had been a reporter not too long ago, her need to videotape everything suddenly made a lot more sense. Old habits really do die hard.

"So what's the story with you and your friend?" Terri asked as she focused the camcorder on Claire's face.

"You mean Alice?"

Terri nodded. "Uh huh. I sense a lot of tension between you two. Did you know her before all this happened?"

"No, not really," Claire answered, hazarding a glance back at Alice. She was trailing behind at some distance, but with her keen senses, she could probably hear every word that was spoken. "We met once, briefly... but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, if this gets made into a documentary, it wouldn't hurt to have a romantic storyline to boost ratings," the reporter replied. "You know, love amidst the disaster? People will eat it up – no pun intended."

Claire balked at that. "Alice and I aren't –"

A voice from behind cut her off mid-sentence, almost making Claire jump out of her skin. "Aren't what?"

"_Jesus_. Don't do that," she snapped, rounding on her with a glare. Alice had that damn Cheshire-cat-like grin on her beautiful face, and it was frustrating as hell. But there was also something endearing about it, which made it quite difficult to stay mad at her.

"Sorry."

"Bullshit – you are_ not_."

Alice shrugged. "No, but I am sorry that I've made you angry at me."

Claire felt the older woman's hand brush against hers as she spoke. Much to her chagrin, the action caused a queer little flutter in her stomach and further weakened her resolve not to forgive Alice so easily. Long fingers laced with hers, giving them a gentle squeeze, and Alice's stunning blue eyes reflected genuine apology. Claire never stood a chance.

With a sigh, she acquiesced. "Fine. You still owe me a motorcycle."

"I also owe you dinner," Alice added, smiling again. "Unfortunately, I don't think Che Buono is open for business anymore."

Claire groaned. Up until then, she had forgotten how hungry she was.

"Fuck, why did you have to mention food? I'm starving," she said, wishing not for the first time that she had bothered to pick up something to eat on the way there.

Terri, who was still taping them, interjected, "So wait a minute, you said that you had only met briefly... but she owes you dinner? When did that happen?"

Claire let go of Alice's hand and crossed her arms over her chest in displeasure at Terri's nosiness. She retorted tersely, "Could you give that a rest? This really is none of your business – or anyone else's. And right now, I think it's a better use of our time to focus on getting the fuck out of this mess."

The reprimand worked. Terri stopped recording – though with obvious reluctance – and she wandered up ahead of them without another word.

Somewhere along the way, as they continued to trail along behind the group, Alice reached out to brush her fingers against Claire's bicep; she uncrossed her arms, allowing their hands to join together again. The contact seemed to comfort Alice as much as it did Claire: the city may have gone to hell around them, but at least they had each other to rely on.

The cemetery was actually a very nice one, despite being in the middle of a metropolitan area. With the trees interspersed among the headstones, their leaves just beginning to change colour, it might have been a nice place to go for a stroll – under different circumstances, of course.

"We should find somewhere to rest for a moment," Jill said a while later, when Peyton's limping appeared to be getting drastically worse. Their pace had slowed so much that Terri, Alice, and Claire had overtaken them for the lead.

Terri kept going; she objected, "Uh uh. I don't think that's a good idea. There might be more of those... _things_."

"If there were more," Alice replied calmly, "we'd have seen them by now."

"So you know what they are?"

Alice nodded. "They're bio-weapons, from the Umbrella labs beneath the city."

As she gave the explanation, the group stopped. Terri opened the camcorder again, focusing it on her as she spoke.

Jill looked at Alice with her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Who are you? And how do you know so much about Umbrella?"

"My name is Alice, and I used to work for them."

At that moment, Peyton leaned back against a nearby tree, rubbing his leg. "Ugh. Damn it."

In a flash, Alice had both guns in her hands, pointing one at Peyton and the other at Jill as the ex-cop trained her own gun on her.

"Hold it," Jill said. "What do you think you're doing?"

Claire reached down to pull out her Hardballer, but Alice dissuaded her with a quick glance. So instead she continued to watch on, concerned and ready to jump to her defence if need be. Sure, Alice could more than handle the situation on her own, but it was a protective instinct that she could do little to suppress.

"He's wounded," Alice answered, looking back at Jill. "The infection's spreading."

It was clear that Peyton was disturbed by her statement, but he tried to put on a brave front, insisting, "I'm fine."

"You should take care of him now," Alice continued, ignoring him. Her tone was strangely cold. "It'll be more difficult later. You _know_ that."

"No," Jill began, shaking her head. As she went on, she advanced until Alice's gun was positioned just in front of her own neck. "If it comes to that, I'll take care of it myself."

There was a moment of awkward silence as the two obstinate women stared each other down. Peyton and Terri both looked nervous; Claire stepped closer to Alice, her hand coming to rest on her lower back. Alice's gaze shifted to her for a second, and she seemed to soften somewhat.

"As you wish," Alice conceded. She holstered her guns and said to Peyton, "It's nothing personal. But in an hour, maybe two, you'll be dead. And moments later, you'll become one of them. You'll endanger your friends, try to kill them... probably succeed. I'm sorry. That's just the way it is."

Peyton's face fell at the gravity of the future that she had just illustrated for him. Claire felt bad for the guy: nobody deserved that kind of fate. As she thought about it, she unconsciously moved even closer to Alice.

And then, all of a sudden, Terri was on the ground and screaming, "Help me!"

Undead were springing up from beneath the earth, and one had taken hold of the ex-reporter's heels. Jill hurried to help pull her away from it, while Alice put the zombie down with a decisive kick to its head.

For slow-moving creatures, they managed to surround them quite quickly. The empty graveyard was now full of the wretched things, closing in from all sides in a swarm.

Alice sprang into action, a whirlwind of impressive strength, flipping over the undead and breaking their necks with inhuman ease. Claire tried to stay with her, drawing her Bowie knife and taking on anything that came within range. She was pleased to find herself quite adept with it; in a perverse sort of way, the fight was almost fun. Blood pumped vigorously in her veins and her heart beat harder with adrenaline again, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. It was like living out one of the video games that she used to love so much, and even though it was real and utterly terrifying, when she glanced over to see Alice connect a roundhouse kick to an undead, she thought that it was also kind of cool.

As yet another zombie came lurching toward Claire, she struck out at it. The blade pierced through its crumbling skull and into its brain with a sickening squelch. She braced her foot on its shoulder to pull the knife out; the metal was coated with blood and brain matter.

"There's too many of them," Alice said, casting a glance around at the still-growing horde. She raised her voice to get the others' attention: "Let's get out of here. This way!"

Claire followed close on her heels, with Jill and the others not much further behind. They had to fight their way out, but eventually they made it back to the more open main streets of Raccoon city, where the undead were dispersed enough to be avoided. From there they headed down Front Street, keeping near to the side of a large building. There was no real reason for doing so, except that it would prevent them from being attacked on all sides again.

As they continued on, Jill turned to Alice.

"Those were some pretty slick moves back there," the ex-cop said, eyeing her with the same suspicion from earlier. "I'm good... but I'm not _that _good."

Claire had a retort at the ready, but she decided to hold her tongue. Her dislike for Jill could wait for another time when their lives were not at risk.

Alice replied cryptically, "You should be thankful for that."

"What do you mean?"

"They did something to me – Umbrella," she clarified. "I barely feel human anymore." As she admitted that, her eyes flicked over to meet Claire's, but she was distracted a second later by the ringing of a phone. She spared it a glance and then said, "We should keep moving, before the sound attracts anything."

They did exactly that, but as they resumed walking, each payphone they passed began to ring. That, Claire thought, was too much to be a mere coincidence.

"Keep moving," Alice reiterated. However, as yet another started ringing, she picked it up. "Hello?"

Then, at whatever was said, she questioned, "Who is this?"

Jill motioned to her eyes and then to a camera above them. Claire looked at it and realized that someone – somewhere – was watching them. _This just keeps getting weirder and weirder_, she mused, returning her attention to Alice. _Why is someone trying to contact us?_

After the person on the phone had apparently gone on for a while, Alice asked, "Do we have a choice?" She listened for some time more; then she hung up and said, "Let's go."

"Wait a second," Jill objected. "Who was that?"

"I'll explain in a minute."

Jill seemed frustrated by Alice's refusal to elaborate; Claire was just concerned. She had a feeling that whatever had been asked of them was not going to be easy _or_ pleasant.

They continued down Front Street until they came upon a streetcar, and this they chose as a safe place to regroup and figure out their plan. Inside, Alice kneeled down on the floor and began to reload her shotgun. Claire and the others gathered around her; Terri got the camcorder out again to record her explanation.

"So his name is Dr. Ashford and he runs..." Terri began, rehashing what Alice had said a moment ago.

Alice finished, "the advanced genetics and viral research division of the Umbrella Corporation."

Jill, who was leaning against one of the poles across from Alice, smoking a cigarette, asked, "What's he want with us?"

"His daughter, Angela, is trapped in the city," Alice answered, glancing at her and then up at Claire, who had chosen the seat beside her. "Umbrella was supposed to evac her, but she didn't make it. She's hiding out in her school. If we find her, he'll help us escape the perimeter."

Peyton was the first to speak: "No fucking deal. We find the building with the thickest walls and doors, and we barricade ourselves in. Sit tight; wait for help."

Claire thought that it was a terrible idea. She wanted to get the fuck out of Raccoon City as fast as possible – her empty, aching stomach was motivation enough to go find this Angela kid. But what Alice said next rendered Peyton's suggestion a moot point, anyway.

"There won't be any help. Umbrella knows they can't contain the infection. So at sunrise this morning, Racoon City will be completely sanitized."

As if for emphasis, she pumped her shotgun.

Terri frowned. "What do you mean by 'sanitized'?"

"A precision tactical nuclear device."

Jill interjected, "What yield?"

"Five kilotons."

Claire did not know a whole lot about nuclear weapons, but she did know that that was bad: Really fucking bad.

"_Fuck me_," she breathed in disbelief, looking down at Alice. "They can't be serious."

Alice arched an eyebrow and said wryly, "Oh, but they are."

"Shit," Jill cursed, shaking her head. "Well, we're completely fucked."

"This is unbelievable," Peyton added, with incredulous anger written on his features.

Terri, however, seemed to be the only one out of the loop. She looked at each of them, confused, and with an uneasy voice, she asked, "What does that mean?"

Alice replied, "It means it'll destroy the infection... and all evidence of it."

"It's bullshit!" Peyton said, as his fury came to a boiling point. He pointed his finger, as if to accuse the absent Corporation, and repeated, "It's bullshit! No fucking way would they get away with that! It would be all over the fucking news."

Claire thought of Jones and all his conspiracy theories about the news. She remembered one of his favourite rants; then she knew exactly how they _could_ get away with it: "Cover-up."

"The cover-up is already prepared," Alice confirmed, her eyes locking with Claire's. "A meltdown at the nuclear power plant."

Terri, now seeming to understand, added, "A tragic accident. It makes perfect sense."

"Not even Umbrella is capable of this," Peyton argued, still unwilling to accept it.

But based on what they had done to Alice and the way that they had kept Chris from contacting her, it was quite clear to Claire that they _were_. The Corporation seemed to have their fingers everywhere; there was no telling how far their reach extended. If she managed to get out of here, she was going to call Jones and apologize for always telling him that he was crazy and paranoid.

"Not capable?" Jill said, turning to him. "Peyton, you were there at the bridge. You know exactly how far Umbrella will go."

At that, Peyton pulled himself up and moved to stand by Jill. Looking down at Alice, he asked, "So what do we do now, huh?"

Rising as well, Alice said, "I think we should be out of here by sunrise."

* * *

_I hope that now it's clear why the previous chapter was necessary. You needed to know Alice's state of mind to understand that Claire is the only thing making her feel human right now, and that's why she's able to be almost normal while with her. Any time she slips out of humanity - like the moment when she tries to shoot Peyton - Claire brings her back to it, or in Wesker's words, redresses the balance.  
_


	5. Search and Destroy

**Fandom**: RE: Apocalypse

**Pairing**: Eventual/Implied Alice/Claire

**Rating**: M (coarse language, some gore)

**Disclaimer**: (see first chapter). I also don't own "Search and Destroy" by 30 Seconds to Mars, from which this chapter title was derived.

_A/N: Hey guys! I'd like to say thank you again for all of the wonderful feedback - it means more to me than you probably know, so keep it up! Nothing cures writer's block or motivates quite so much as knowing that people are eager to read more. With that said, enjoy the update!_

* * *

**Volume I: Apocalyptic Genesis**

_Four_: Search and Destroy

xxx

"_That's why they're called lessons, because they lessen from day to day."_

~Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll

xxx

Traversing Raccoon City on foot was turning out to be a bigger challenge than Claire had realized: Between the significant distance that they needed to cover and Peyton's cumbersome injury, it would be an hour – maybe longer – before they reached Angela's school, and that was time which they simply did not have.

Both Jill and Terri were helping Peyton limp slowly along, and he was getting worse with every step. In light of the looming deadline, Alice had refused to adjust her pace for him; now she and Claire were quite far ahead of the others.

"Alice, they can't keep up," Claire said, after casting a glance back at them. As it was, even her own feet and legs were starting to protest with the effort, though she knew that Alice was slowing herself down at least a little bit for her benefit. Upon seeing that her original appeal had achieved nothing, Claire decided to try a different tactic. For emphasis, she added, "I barely can."

Her words had the desired effect: Alice let her pace slacken somewhat.

"I'm sorry," Alice replied, meeting her eyes. "But we need to hurry."

"I know we do," Claire agreed. She looked ahead and noticed that they were almost at the Arklay Overpass. "But we also won't get there any faster if they collapse from exhaustion. Let's stop up there; let them catch up a bit."

The older woman did not seem keen on doing so, but nonetheless, she acquiesced. They continued on until they reached the bridge; then they settled there, waiting. Claire took up a position leaning against the railing of the overpass, and after a moment, Alice moved to join her. They stood shoulder to shoulder, bare skin pressing against red leather.

"So, do you really think that we can trust this Ashford guy?" Claire asked, looking over at her. A gentle breeze was ruffling her blonde hair, errant strands falling against her beautiful face. She had to fight the urge to reach up and brush them away, but her struggle was made easier as Alice did just that a moment later.

"I don't know; I guess we'll find out soon enough."

After that, they lapsed into silence. Claire was too tired to think of anything else to say, but there was no real need to. Instead, she leaned her head against Alice and closed her eyes, taking what she knew would be a rare – and far too brief – opportunity to rest.

When the other three arrived sometime later, Jill looked nothing short of pissed off.

The ex-cop rolled her eyes at them and retorted sardonically, "Thanks for waiting."

Alice did not acknowledge her comment; instead, she merely resumed walking. Claire fell into step with her again, and she was glad to find that she felt at least somewhat rejuvenated by the break: It had been a long day already, and something told her that it was far from over.

They were about half way across the overpass when Jill broke the silence that they had fallen into. As she did, she gave voice to a concern that had been nagging at Claire since the streetcar: "What if there is no way out of the city, and he's watching us on these cameras like this is some kind of sick game?

"That may be," Alice replied, unfazed. "But we have no other options."

Jill remained unconvinced. "I still don't like it. For all we know, we'll get there and there won't even _be _an Angela."

"You're welcome to stay behind, if you'd prefer," Alice said, glancing at the other three. "Or try to find another way out. But we're going to that school."

Before the potential argument could carry on any further, it was cut short by Alice coming to an abrupt stop. At the same time, her hand moved to press flat against Claire's midsection, forcing her to halt, too.

From behind them, Jill questioned, "What is it?"

"What's going on?" Peyton added, superfluously.

Alice answered neither question; she just said, "Wait."

Impatient, Peyton started to move again. He remarked, "Sunrise ain't gonna wait."

"No," Alice insisted, looking down at some unknown object or creature below the bridge. Claire tried to make out what it was, but her eyesight was not quite as sharp. As far as she could tell, there was nothing remarkable to see; Alice, however, insisted otherwise: "There's something down there."

"Where?" Jill asked.

Alice pointed, but that made it no easier to detect. "There."

"I don't see anything," Peyton said.

"Well, that doesn't alter the fact that there _is _something down there."

His worsening condition must have caused him to reach a breaking point, because Peyton grabbed his gun and pushed ahead of them. There was rage in his voice as he exclaimed, "I'm getting sick of this bullshit!"

Jill called after him: "Peyton!"

That was when the racket from a large gun issued forth, its bullets mowing him down in an instant. The others ducked, and Alice pulled Claire behind her in one quick motion, using her own body as a shield.

"_No_!" Jill yelled, and she began shooting at whatever it was that had killed Peyton.

Alice mumbled something which sounded like "Nemesis," but that made no sense to Claire. Then the older woman was turning around, meeting her eyes with a sense of urgency.

"You need to go. Now," Alice said.

Claire shook her head. "No way. I am _not_ leaving you."

"I'll meet up with you, I promise," Alice assured her, putting a hand on her arm. Then, to the others, she commanded, "Run – just _go_!"

Claire hesitated a moment before she finally complied. She ran to the end of the bridge, turning just in time to see Alice leap over the edge and down to fight whatever horrible thing had been sent after them. It went against Claire's every instinct to let her go like that, but she had faith in Alice – faith that she would remain true to her promise. For now, that had to be enough.

On the other side of the overpass, they were lucky enough to find a Dodge truck that was still intact. The keys, however, were missing.

"Shit," Terri cursed, wringing her hands nervously. "What do we do now?"

Jill was doing her best to hide it, but she was crying. She was standing off to the side and said nothing in response to the ex-reporter's question.

It was obvious to Claire that Jill needed a bit of time to recover from the loss of her friend, so she decided to take charge. She replied, "I can hotwire it. I just need a few minutes."

She climbed into the front seat of the truck and set to work. As she did, Terri opened the passenger door and got in, too. She must have also realized that Jill needed some space, and while her company had been somewhat taxing earlier, it now provided a welcome distraction from Claire's growing anxiety over Alice's well-being.

"Hey, uh, I just wanted to apologize," Terri began, breaking the silence, "for earlier... you know, all those questions I asked about you and Alice. Curiosity got the better of me... I hope I didn't offend you."

While connecting two wires together, Claire looked up at her. She replied dismissively, "Don't worry about it. You just threw me off, I guess, when you said that thing about love. I mean, Alice and I barely know each other; I have no idea what our relationship is – if we even have one at all."

"But you like her, right?"

A smile tugged at Claire's lips, and she said with a soft laugh, "Hell yeah."

The conversation stalled for a few minutes while her attention was focused elsewhere, but soon the engine was roaring to life. When she sat up again, Terri remarked to her, "You're lucky, you know."

"How's that?" Claire asked as she climbed out of the truck, intending to go fetch Jill. She paused in the doorway to hear her response.

"Well, if the way she looks at you is any indication," Terri explained, "and if you ask me, it is – then you're probably going to get laid tomorrow."

_God, I hope so_, Claire thought, but the sound of a gunshot prevented her from making a comment aloud. She turned around and saw that Jill was standing over Peyton's now twice-dead body. The ex-cop was shaking, and her gun was still trained on his skull, which now had a neat bullet-hole square in the middle of it.

Jill holstered her weapon and walked back toward the Dodge, her eyes dark with sadness and fury. She said bitterly, "Let's just get to that God damn school."

xxx

"Fucking _hell_," Claire muttered, as they came upon yet another road clogged with debris. She had been forced to take two other detours already, and she was long past frustrated by the constant delays. The feeling was only exacerbated by the fact that they had been travelling in awkward silence ever since they left the overpass – which was now more than half an hour ago. It made time seem to crawl; the sensation was worsened by her fervent desire to just get the fuck out of Raccoon, check into a nice hotel somewhere with Alice, order room service, and then go to bed. It was a mental image that she clung to, yet it seemed to be drifting even further away with every minute that passed.

In the rear-view mirror, Claire could see that Jill was staring out the window with a stony expression on her face. Terri, on the other hand, was beside Claire in the passenger seat, watching the footage that she had taken with the camcorder. But the ex-reporter looked up suddenly and exclaimed, "Stop!"

Startled, Claire hit the brake. A man wearing a black fedora had just run in front of the truck; she had almost hit him. He came around the side of the vehicle to stand by Claire's window, which she rolled down.

"I'm not one of those things," he said imploringly. He caught sight of Jill in the back and added, "Hey! Remember me? Look, I haven't been bitten or anything. Look."

He demonstrated his claim by holding his jacket open for them to see; it appeared as if he had spoken the truth.

Claire cast a glance over her shoulder at Jill. "You know this guy?"

"He was at the police station earlier today," the ex-cop replied, shrugging. "Might as well let him in. It doesn't make a whole lot of a fucking difference at this point."

She turned back to him. "Climb aboard."

He opened the back door and hastened to get inside. When he was settled in, he leaned forward to introduce himself: "Lloyd Jefferson Wayne, but you can call me L.J. on account of the informal situation."

"Claire," she replied, turning her eyes back to the road. The others offered their names as well, and when they were done, she added, "I'm not very familiar with this part of town. Jill – are we getting close?"

"Yeah, just keep going. It's a few more blocks, give or take."

They drove in silence again for a while, until L.J. asked, "So where are y'all headed to?"

"Raccoon City Junior School," Jill answered; then she filled him in on the gist of what they needed to do when they got there and why. By the time she was finished explaining, they had already arrived at their destination: 400 Ivy Street.

The school looked as if it must have been a private one, because it was nicer than any Claire had ever been to. The structure was quite large, and it seemed, for the most part, undamaged – apart from a police van which had crashed on the front steps.

_Why did it have to be a school? _Claire wondered as she hopped out of the truck. She had always been fond of horror movies, but it was the ones with children in them which actually scared the shit out of her. So it was for largely selfish reasons that she hoped all of the other kids had made it out before the virus hit.

Inside, the building was shadowy and cavernous; it was creepy as hell.

"We're gonna have to split up to search this place," Jill said, as they were looking around at all the space that they would have to cover.

Angela could be anywhere; in the dark, it would be like a maze.

"Forget it," Terri objected. "Forget it! I'm not going out there _by myself_."

_Well_, Claire thought, _at least I'm not the only one who's freaked out by this. _

L.J. looked just as wary as the both of them, but he offered, "I can go with you."

"Fine," Jill agreed. "You two take the first floor – but at least split up to cover more ground. Claire, you take the second; I'll look in the basement."

She was not thrilled to be taking orders from Jill, but on the other hand, it suited her just fine to search by herself, so she made no complaint. Instead, she watched as the ex-cop handed Terri one of her guns, to which the dark-haired woman protested, "I've never shot a gun before."

"There's nothing to it," Jill remarked, already on her way to the basement. Over her shoulder, she added, "Try to shoot them in the head."

After that, the rest of the group parted: Terri and L.J. headed to opposite ends of the floor that they were currently on, and Claire made for the nearest stairwell, which would take her to the second floor. By then, her eyes had begun to adjust to the dark; however, in some places the shadows were so deep that it was hard to see if anything lurked within them. Between that and the loud echoing of her feet on the stairs, it was starting to wreak havoc on her nerves. As a result, she felt a rush of relief upon reaching the top and pushing through the double doors; with the Hardballer solid and heavy in her hands, she set about searching for Dr. Ashford's daughter.

The first door that she tried was locked, but the next one was wide open. Cautiously she edged around it, her gun poised as she surveyed the inside. Textbooks and papers were scattered in a chaotic mess on the floor; the arm of a paper-cutter lay in the midst of them, its blade coated with blood. There were crimson hand-prints on various pages and streaks of blood along the floor, also left in the shape of fingers.

She moved further into the room, taking care to avoid the mess. As she did, she noticed an overturned desk and the small arm that was sticking out from behind it.

"Angela?" Claire asked, taking another step forward.

The hand twitched. Its owner began to crawl around the side of the desk, making that horrible gurgling moan; if it were Angela, then they were too late. Claire watched in morbid fascination as a blonde child dragged herself slowly across the floor. Her hair was matted with blood, her skull lacerated in a long, straight line, exposing her brain. The wound looked as if it had been inflicted by the paper-cutter's blade; however, it had not cut deep enough to end her unfortunate existence.

Claire aimed the magnum at the child's head and squeezed the trigger. The weapon sounded like thunder as it punctuated the heavy silence of the classroom, and the large calibre bullet reduced the lifeless girl's head to a puddle of blood and broken chunks of flesh and bone. Sickened, she turned away and left, eager to get away from the grisly sight.

The next open door led into what looked like an art room: there were large, rectangular tables inside and pictures put up all over the walls. Unlike the previous one, this classroom had little damage done to it. There were but a few places where a child could be hiding, the main one being behind the large counter toward the back, which had a sink set in it. She began to walk toward it, and she was almost there, when suddenly she had the unsettling feeling that something was behind her.

A hand came to rest on her shoulder a second later, and Claire whipped around, ready to strike at whomever or whatever it belonged to. The same hand caught her wrist with lightning-fast reflexes, lifting it so that her gun was pointed at the ceiling; another settled at her waist, preventing her from struggling as it pulled her close against its owner.

With a warm smile, Alice greeted her, "Hi."

"Hey," Claire breathed in relief, her heart pounding hard from the surprise; however, as she looked up into sparkling blue eyes, she found that knowing who her captor was did little to abate it. In truth, her elevated heart rate was largely related to being pressed flush into Alice's taller frame: the sensation was both enjoyable and incredibly distracting.

Humour laced Alice's husky voice as she quipped, "Fancy meeting you here."

"Yeah," Claire drawled sarcastically, "it's a huge coincidence."

As much as she would have liked to remain in her arms, sunrise was looming ever closer; there would be time for that later. Reluctantly, Claire broke out of her firm but gentle hold and holstered her gun. With Alice around, she felt safe: there was no need for the weapon.

"Why did you sneak up on me like that? You almost gave me a fucking heart attack."

Alice smirked, teasing her playfully, "Because it was easy."

Claire was just about to reply with a witty comeback, when she noticed the state that the older woman was in: she was bleeding from a wound on her arm, and the exposed skin of her thigh was covered with a mix of blood and dirt. Upon seeing this, her expression shifted from mock-annoyance to one of concern.

"Are you okay? You're bleeding."

"It's nothing," Alice replied dismissively. "Don't worry."

Indicating the counter with the sink in it, Claire said, "Here, let's get you cleaned up."

Alice tried again to shrug it off: "There's no need for that; it would just be a waste of time."

"Tough shit," Claire remarked in defiance, with her hands on her hips. Then she gestured again to the counter. "Park it."

Alice arched an eyebrow, and she looked almost as if she were going to contest the command. After a moment, however, she relented and moved to hop up onto it, saying softly, "As you wish."

Claire followed her and knelt down to check the cabinet under the sink for some paper towel; lucky for them, there was plenty of it. She selected a brand new roll and stood up, setting it beside the other woman as she moved to turn on the tap. The water was cold, so she let it run until it was lukewarm, before wetting a few sheets under it. With these in hand, she stepped closer to Alice, deciding to clean her thigh first. She wiped the cloth over it, marvelling at the fact that there were no wounds under all the grime – just pure, unblemished alabaster skin; when that task was done, she tossed aside the soiled paper towel and grabbed a new sheet with which to dry her off.

"You had me worried, you know," Claire said, looking up at her.

This seemed to pique her interest. "Is that so?"

Alice's skin was impossibly soft to the touch, and Claire was unable to resist letting her fingers wander a little more than they needed to. As she continued to stare into her remarkable blue eyes, which looked greener and somehow more intense in the dim light, she replied in a soft tone, "Yeah, it is."

The expression on her face was difficult to read; when Claire set about removing the blood from her arm, Alice mused aloud, "It's been a long time since anyone has cared about me."

Claire scoffed lightly and arched an eyebrow at that statement. "I find that rather hard to believe."

Alice's response was a small, easy smile. Deciding to take a risk, Claire tossed aside the paper towel and boldly moved to stand between her legs. She rested a hand at Alice's waist and used the other to tuck those errant strands of blonde hair behind her ear, like she had wanted to earlier. Alice did not rebuke her for it, and her pulse began to quicken again – this time, from excitement – as she leaned in to close the gap between them. Claire had read the signs correctly, because Alice reciprocated; their noses were just sliding against one another's, their lips just about to press together, when the blonde pulled away abruptly.

"What is it?" Claire asked, surprised.

"They're in danger," Alice replied, sliding off the counter. She was already heading for the door when she added over her shoulder, "We have to hurry."

Claire ran after her as fast as possible, but it was all that she could do just to keep up. She had no idea how the older woman knew what was happening elsewhere in the school; however, she trusted Alice's instincts. Everything passed in a blur, and soon they were in a large cafeteria in the basement, where they came to a stop in front of two doors. Ostensibly, these led to the kitchen.

Alice turned to her, seeming to have suffered little from the exertion, and asked, "Do you have a lighter?"

Breathless and a little dizzy, she fumbled in her back pocket for the metal Zippo that Chris had given to her when she was thirteen. She had kept it on her person ever since, always convinced that it would come in handy.

By the time she produced it, Alice already had a cigarette between her lips. Claire rolled her thumb over the wheel of the lighter and used the resulting flame to ignite it for her. Alice took a long, unbelievably sexy drag from it; then she flicked it toward the doors, which had just opened to reveal Jill and a kid – presumably Angela Ashford.

Smelling the gas that was coming from the kitchen, Claire hurried to duck out of the way. Before she did, she caught a glimpse of Alice pulling a fire blanket over herself and Angela; the explosion that followed forced her to turn her head away to protect her eyes.

When the fire cleared, Claire rose to her feet. She walked over to stand by Alice, whose gaze was locked with the little girl whom they had come to save. Seeing the two of them side-by-side, it appeared as if Angela were a miniature form of her: there was just something about them that was somehow very similar.

To Alice, the young Ashford said, "Thank you."

Jill, who had been thrown onto a table by the force of the explosion, sat up and asked, "You two know each other?"

As usual, Alice did not give her a direct answer. She merely pointed at Angela and noted, "She's infected: she's infected on a massive level."

"How can you know that?" Jill demanded, as she also came over to stand by them. She was eyeing Alice with the same suspicion from before.

Angela looked back and forth between the two of them; then she explained, "Because she is, too."

"You're infected? When were you going to tell us that?"

As if to further vex Jill, or perhaps just thinking it not worth answering, Alice ignored her question. She pulled over one of the cafeteria chairs and sat down on it, smiling as she said, "Let me see."

Claire moved to stand behind Alice; she looked over at Angela, offering a friendly smile in the hope that it might help to reassure her.

Still, her reply was a hesitant, "No."

Alice got up again and crouched in front of the little girl, imploring her: "You know I'm not going to hurt you. Let me see."

After she said this, Angela made no further protests. Alice took hold of her arm, gently lifting up the sleeve: the pale skin beneath it was dotted with circular needle-marks. Then she unzipped the messenger bag at the young girl's side, taking a metal case from within it. She sat down once more and opened it; inside, there were vials of some green substance.

Claire rested her hands lightly on Alice's shoulders as she leaned over her to get a better view of them. "What is that?"

"It's the anti-virus," Alice explained, looking up at her. "The cure to the T-virus."

Jill interjected, "There's a cure?"

Again, Alice did not answer; she turned to Angela instead. "How did you get this?"

"My daddy," the young Ashford replied, warily. "My daddy made it for me: he's sick, and someday I'll get sick, too. He just wanted to stop that."

She paused, as if afraid that they would be judging her. It was a rather mature fear for a child her age – she seemed to have inherited her father's obvious intelligence. Upon seeing that they were all giving her encouraging looks, however, she carried on: "When I was little, I had to walk on crutches. They said I'd never get better, just worse. He found a way to make me stronger."

"The T-virus," Alice supplied.

Angela nodded. "Then they took the invention away from him. He's not a bad man; he didn't mean for any of this."

She seemed upset, as if she had been blaming herself for what had happened, and that, too, spoke of maturity that was beyond her years. To comfort her, Alice reached out and embraced the girl; her tone was soft as she said, "It's okay."

A sudden noise drew their attention. Alice stood, grabbing her shotgun and pointing it toward the source: a man in tactical gear, who had just burst through a nearby door. His assault rifle was likewise aimed at Alice, with the laser sight fixed on her chest. In reaction to this, Claire stepped forward and drew her Hardballer, focusing it on his skull with every intention to shoot him if he tried anything funny.

Before anyone could make another move, the door opened again. It was L.J., and he held up his hands to stop them. "_Don't shoot_! Don't shoot. He's cool – he made a deal with Dr. Doom, same as you."

At L.J.'s words, Alice and the man in tactical gear lowered their weapons; Claire hesitated, her gun still poised and ready. She eyed him warily, but when Alice laid a hand on her arm and met her eyes, she yielded and holstered the magnum.

"How many of you guys are there?" Jill asked.

He looked confused. "What do you mean?"

Jill gestured to the body of a fair-haired man, also dressed in tactical gear, which was lying mutilated on the floor a short distance from them; the living soldier mumbled in recognition, "Nikolai."

Then he began to cough: a heavy, harsh sort of cough that suggested something was seriously wrong.

Alice looked him in the eye and said, "When were you bitten?"

"Three hours ago."

Beside him, L.J. exclaimed in disbelief, "What the –?"

Alice hefted her shotgun again and walked past the soldier, remarking with a smirk, "It's your lucky day."

After she did, L.J. pointed a finger at him and reprimanded, "Shoulda told me you got bit, motherfucker – I'm hangin' with you an' shit."

Claire could not help but laugh at the bemused expression on his face; then she moved to follow Alice, with the others not far behind her. As she fell in step with the older woman, their gazes met, and they smiled at each other. They had found Angela, and now the end was in sight.

Except, they would soon find, things were never quite _that _easy.

* * *

_So, if you read this and were wondering why Claire and Jill don't get along, here's the reason: I find Jill rather annoying, and I've always (not sure why) thought that they would get on each other's nerves. I hope that doesn't put anyone off; if it does, I apologize.  
_


	6. REvolve

**Fandom**: RE: Apocalypse

**Pairing**: Alice/Claire

**Rating**: M (coarse language, violence/gore, mild suggestive themes)

**Disclaimer**: (see chapter one). I also don't own "R-Evolve" by 30 Seconds to Mars, from which the title is derived, or "Cave In" by Owl City.

_A/N: I'm cutting down my old notes just to reduce the clutter, but I'd like to leave an acknowledgement here that the response to this chapter was absolutely amazing. Please keep it up, and above all, I hope you continue to enjoy this story!  
_

* * *

**Volume I: Apocalyptic Genesis**

_Five_: R-Evolve

xxx

_If the bombs go off, the sun will still be shining,  
Because we've heard it said that every mushroom cloud has a silver lining  
(Though I'm always undermining too deep to know.)_

~Cave In, Owl City

xxx

They had only been outside for a minute or two, when one of the payphones in front of Raccoon City Junior School began to ring. Alice approached it and picked up the receiver, putting it to her ear.

With no pretence whatsoever, Ashford insisted,_ "Let me speak to my daughter."_

"First, you tell us how we're getting out," Alice replied, evenly. She knew a thing or two about dealing with Umbrella, and even though he _seemed _trustworthy, she still wanted to keep the upper hand for as long as possible.

While Alice listened to his response, her gaze flicked over to Claire, who was standing by the fence just beside the payphones. She looked tired, but she was still alert and keeping watch for trouble.

"_There's a helicopter already being prepped, and it takes off in about an hour and forty-seven minutes. It'll be the last transport to leave Raccoon City before they detonate the missile."_

"I take it this helicopter isn't laid out especially for us," she said, waiting for the catch. With Umbrella, there was always a catch.

Her suspicions were confirmed as Ashford responded, _"No. It has another purpose, but it'll be lightly guarded."_

She had a feeling that there was more to it than that, but they would just have to worry about it when they got there: they had already reached the point of no return.

"Where's the evac site?"

"_May I speak to my daughter now?"_

It would have been preferable to have all the information first, but nonetheless, she handed over the phone – though she did so out of consideration for the little girl more than for Dr. Ashford himself. While Angela was talking to him, Alice wandered over to join Claire, resting her arms on the top of the fence and propping her chin up on them. She kept her gaze on the child until she felt Claire step closer, into her personal space. She turned to look up at her and smiled.

"I can't fucking wait to get out of here," the redhead remarked, as she rested her arms on the fence beside Alice's, so close that their elbows touched. A little more quietly, she added, "Do you know any good hotels close to Raccoon?"

"No," Alice replied, intrigued, "but I'm sure that we can find one."

Before either of them could say anything more, Angela held the phone out to her again. She walked over to accept it; then she asked him, "Where do we have to go?"

"_The helicopter will be at City Hall; I suggest you make haste."_

When he finished speaking, Alice hung up. The others were looking at her expectantly, so she explained, "We're headed to City Hall. He says that we've got less than two hours, so we'll need to hurry." Then she turned to address Angela, adding, "But first, can I see the case again?"

The young Ashford nodded and moved to pull it out for her. Alice took one of the anti-virus vials, as well as an injector, and walked over to Carlos, who was sitting on the steps. She settled beside him, preparing the serum for use.

"What's that?" Carlos asked, looking at it with an expression somewhere between wary and confused.

"It's the anti-virus," Alice answered. "And the sooner you get it, the better."

He smiled charmingly at her and quipped, "So I guess that's what you meant by 'it's your lucky day,' huh?"

Alice was about to respond, when Claire came to stand at the base of the stairs. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she was eyeing Carlos much the same way that she had been earlier, with her steely gaze all but burning a hole through his skull.

"Alice, we need to go," she said, gesturing to the truck. The other three were already inside, and Jill had the engine going again.

"I know," Alice replied. "This won't even take a minute."

While she injected him, Carlos made a rather brave attempt at talking to Claire. He nodded toward the Bowie knife hanging from her belt and joked, "You compensating for something with that thing?"

Alice bit her lip, waiting for the younger woman to rip him a new one for the comment; however, when she looked up again, she saw that amusement was flickering in the redhead's eyes.

"It's not the size of the knife," Claire retorted, with a hint of a smirk on her lips. "It's how you use it."

"No kidding," Carlos said, seeming bemused again. As she rolled her eyes and started walking toward the Dodge, he turned to Alice and raised an eyebrow.

Alice shrugged. "She did say that she's good with her hands."

Carlos laughed at that and remarked, "I believe it." They stood to follow the fiery redhead, and he added almost as an afterthought, "I like her. She's kinda... spunky."

With a grin, Alice said, "Oh, trust me – you don't know the half of it."

The back of the truck was a tight fit. Carlos got in on the one side, and before Alice could do anything, Claire climbed in beside him, as if to keep them apart. The space that remained was small, so Alice had to sit partially on her lap, and the redhead put her arm along the seat behind her to make the position more comfortable.

After they had been driving for a few minutes, Alice leaned even closer to Claire and whispered against her ear, "Has anyone ever told you that you're cute when you're jealous?"

Then she placed a light, teasing kiss just under her ear, smiling as she felt the shiver that it elicited from the younger woman. She pulled back a bit to look into Claire's beautiful cobalt eyes, which had widened a little at the accusation. Their faces were so close that it would have been easy for Alice to just lean in and kiss her; she was sorely tempted to do so. But that would be less than subtle, and Carlos was already trying to surreptitiously observe them, so it would not go unnoticed. _Later, _she thought, eyeing Claire's lips. There would be plenty of time to have her fill later, in private.

Before Claire could protest the claim that she was jealous, Jill turned around to hand Alice the camcorder that had belonged to Terri.

"Here," she said. "You know how all this happened, so tape the story. I'll see that it gets put to good use."

Alice nodded. It was the least she could do to make sure that Terri and every other victim of the outbreak had not died in vain.

She turned the camera on and held it so that it was focused on her own face, and then she began to speak: "My name is Alice. I worked for the Umbrella Corporation – the largest and most powerful commercial entity in the world. I was head of security at a secret high-tech facility called The Hive: a giant underground laboratory, developing experimental viral weaponry. But there was an incident: the virus escaped, and everybody died. Trouble was... they didn't stay dead. The T-virus reanimated their bodies... But I survived... myself and one other – an environmentalist named Matt. When we emerged, we were seized by Umbrella scientists, and Matt and I were separated. We thought that we had survived the horror... but we were wrong."

When she finished her speech, she switched off the camera and offered it to Claire. "Think you can keep this safe for me? I'd probably just break it."

"Sure," Claire agreed, taking it from her and tucking it into a pocket within her jacket. Then she went on: "Alice... when I found you, you said that Umbrella injected you with the virus..."

From the front seat, L.J. complained, "Oh come on... you gotta be shittin' me."

"Don't worry," Alice said to assure them all, though she made sure to lock eyes with Claire in particular as she added, "I'm not contagious."

"So if you were injected with it, why didn't you mutate like the others?" Carlos asked, his eyebrows knitting together as he tried to figure it out.

Truthfully, even Alice herself was not quite sure why her body had reacted to the virus in the way that it did, but she answered as best she could: "I did. But the T-virus is unstable; it changes. Something in my DNA must have caused it to react differently."

Carlos swept his eyes over her with obvious appreciation, and he noted, "Well, you definitely still look human, at least."

"So I've heard," Alice replied. She noticed that redhead bristled visibly at his comment, and to have a little fun with the situation, she curled an arm around her neck and settled more into her lap. "Claire could tell you just _how _human," she began, brushing her fingers lightly through her soft, vibrant red hair, "couldn't you?"

It took every bit of willpower she had just to keep herself from bursting into laughter at the reactions that this elicited from them: Carlos' brow furrowed in confusion, while Claire's cheeks and the tips of her ears flushed a light crimson. The former kept looking back and forth between them, as if trying to figure out what she meant, and the latter pretended that there was something fascinating on the floor of the truck.

"Did I miss something?" Carlos asked.

"No," Jill answered, casting a quick glance back at them. "Claire just has a hard-on for Alice, too."

"Shut the fuck up, Jill," Claire hissed, glaring daggers at the back of her head.

The ex-cop was unfazed. "Oh, please. It was visible from space."

_So much for subtlety, _Alice thought, with a grin. Beside her, the younger woman continued to fume, so she placed a placating kiss on her cheek.

Carlos' eyes widened. "I didn't realize..."

"Don't worry about it," Alice said, and as she looked out the window, she realized that they were almost at City Hall. "We're getting close. Remember, this is Umbrella we're dealing with, so they probably have some other trick up their sleeve. We should be prepared for anything."

To avoid drawing attention to their presence, Alice advised Jill to park near the Old City Hall. From there they could see the helicopter and the Umbrella guards, and it turned out that Ashford was right: there were not very many of them. Still, she could not shake the nagging feeling that it was just a little _too _easy.

"Okay," Jill began, once they had all climbed out of the truck. "We need a plan."

"I'll bet they have a sniper up there," Carlos said, pulling out his binoculars to check. "Yup. Even if we get past the others, he'll see us coming."

Alice smiled. "I'll take care of it. Give me a fifteen minute lead; then head for the helicopter."

As she was about to leave, she felt someone catch her wrist. It was Claire, and there was worry written clearly on her features. "Alice... Just be careful, alright?"

Giving her hand a quick squeeze, Alice replied, "I always am."

Claire raised a dubious eyebrow at that, but nonetheless, she let go.

Alice turned and disappeared into the shadows, weaving her way between objects to keep out of the sniper's view. As she moved, her instincts seemed to come alive: her senses were attuned to every sight and sound, like a hunter off to find its prey. She made a wide circle around to the back of the New City Hall building, and from there she found an entrance easily enough. Inside, she made for the nearest stairwell, and her feet carried her up flight after flight in an exhilarating blur. Whatever the T-virus had done to her body, it allowed her to move with remarkable speed, and she found that she felt no fatigue or shortness of breath from doing so.

When she reached the roof, Alice eased the door open quietly. She could see the lone Umbrella soldier huddled over his rifle, and he appeared to be aiming it at something. With light, soundless footsteps, she snuck up behind him; then she covered the scope of the gun with her hand, leaving him blind. He looked up to see where the obstruction had come from, and with a smirk, she knocked him unconscious.

There was a harness and winch set up next to him, ostensibly to allow a quick escape. She glanced over the edge and saw that there were a number of guards below, and an idea occurred to her. Alice grinned. They would never see it coming.

She hooked herself up to it, and once she was certain that it was secure, she climbed up on the ledge. For a moment, the whole of downtown Raccoon City lay spread out before her, and then the world tilted as she started to run down the surface of the building. While she plummeted toward the ground, she wondered briefly if this were what Lewis Carroll's Alice felt when falling down the rabbit hole. But as strange as the sensation was, it was soon over, and she came crashing down upon the unsuspecting guards.

As she fought them, she barely had to think about her movements, as if her body were on some kind of autopilot. Alice incapacitated one after another with little difficulty, though one soldier managed to nick her with a knife. Before he could get another shot in, she punched it out of his hand and caught it mid-air, jabbing it through his helmet. When the next approached, she wrapped a length of her rappelling cord around him, spinning his body and stabbing him in the gut while he was disoriented. Then she threw the knife behind her, killing the final man.

With that done, Alice made her way over to the helicopter. There were three more guards waiting, and she grabbed the first from behind, snapping his neck. She yanked a telescopic steel baton from his belt and used it to beat the other two guards down, finishing the final one off with a crushing blow to the front of his helmet, shattering it.

The others were approaching, and with a quick glance behind her to be sure that that was all of Umbrella's lackeys, she tossed the baton aside.

As she started to walk toward them, Claire reached for a smaller knife on her belt – which she must have taken from _Fremlin's_, though Alice did not remember her doing so – and whipped it past her. Startled, she flicked her eyes from the now dead guard to the smiling redhead.

"You missed one," Claire said; then she crossed her arms over her chest. "Didn't I tell you to be careful?"

Alice laughed. "I was... mostly."

They walked to the back of the helicopter, which was already open. As Alice stepped inside, she noticed a computer screen and other equipment, and the nagging feeling returned, blaring like a loud alarm as she realized the catch: the helicopter was not for them; it was for Matt – for Nemesis.

"We have to hurry," she said, moving toward the cockpit.

"We're okay," Carlos replied, glancing at his watch. "We still have time."

Alice shook her head. "_No_. We have to hurry."

She rushed to the front, with Claire and Angela close behind her. L.J.'s voice drifted back to her, exclaiming, "Holy shit! We stealing his ride!"

Addressing the pilot, Alice demanded, "Take off." No response. "I said, _take off_!"

"What's the rush?"

At the familiar voice, she turned around.

It was Cain, and the sight of him caused Alice's almost-forgotten ire to flare. But it was replaced a fraction of a second later by paralyzing fear, for he had Claire's shoulder gripped in one hand, and his other held a gun roughly against her neck. The redhead's eyes were wide – flashing with a mixture of shock and anger – and she held Angela close in an attempt to protect her from him, even though she would be able to do very little to that effect.

Cain looked down at them and then at Alice. "We've been expecting you." He nodded toward the exit. "Get out."

Trying to swallow down the rage that was once again boiling within her, she walked past him and back outside. The others were tied up and kneeling on the ground, with guards standing by them; there was also a man in a wheelchair, whom she did not recognize but presumed had to be the mysterious Dr. Ashford.

As Cain and his two hostages emerged after her, Ashford called out, "Angie!"

Claire let go of her, and the little girl ran toward her father. Cain handed the redhead off to one of the guards, who fastened her wrists behind her back and took her over to join the others. Then he said, "Discard primary weaponry."

Bright lights turned on overhead, and Nemesis dropped the large gun that he was carrying.

Alice shrugged away from the soldiers who had been trying to hold her, and she turned to look at Cain with contempt. Once again, her resolve to kill the bastard was renewed: if he wanted to make her inhuman, then so be it, but she was going to take him down with her.

"The two of you showed such promise," Cain said, moving closer to her, "but we had to see you in action." He smiled. "And most impressive, you've been. You're like brother and sister: parallel strands of research, both with heightened speed, strength, and agility... the same killer instincts. And now – now, we'll discover which is superior." Nemesis growled; Cain ordered, "Fight him."

Alice shook her head. "No."

"Fight him, or they die."

She glanced over at them – at Claire. She knew Umbrella, and she knew Cain: he was not a man of his word, and he was quite likely planning to kill them regardless of what she chose. So she decided to make a dangerous bluff, hoping that he would not call her on it.

"What makes you think I care?"

Cain seemed to consider it, and then he shrugged. He turned around, shooting Ashford square between the eyes.

Despite herself, Alice gasped.

"He was a valuable asset to the Corporation," Cain said. "I don't even care about these people."

Her mind was reeling, searching for a solution. She did not want to endanger any of the others, but she also did not want to play in to Umbrella's sick games. And in the very possible event that Nemesis should happen to win – by killing or incapacitating her – then she really would have no hope of protecting them. There had to be another way, but she could not see it.

Cain, mistaking her lack of response for a refusal, asked, "No? Well then, which of them means the most to you? Him?" He pointed his gun at Carlos. "No? Her?" He indicated Jill. "No? The child, perhaps?"

Unable to stop herself, her eyes drifted to Claire again.

"Ah," Cain said. He strode over to where the redhead was kneeling and wrenched her up by the collar of her jacket, pressing the muzzle of his gun to her temple. "Fight him, or watch her die, too. Your choice."

Claire struggled in his grip. "Don't do it, Alice. Don't give the fucker what he wants."

Horrified, she shifted her gaze to Cain. He seemed to be enjoying the excuse to cause her more pain than he already had.

"_Stop_," Alice breathed, desperately. "Stop... I'll do it."

Cain smiled. "That's more like it." He shoved Claire back toward the guards and added, "Let it begin."

She complied, walking toward Nemesis. The two of them circled around each other for a moment, getting into position. Alice raised her fists, and then in a blur they both began to attack. Nemesis was powerful but slow, and she managed to land a number of blows on him, though they did little more than cause the juggernaut to stagger. She dodged one of his swipes at her and took hold of his arm, twisting it around and kicking at his knee. It was a move that might have crippled a weaker creature; Nemesis, however, simply broke out of her hold.

Alice stepped back again, trying to evaluate her enemy. Just punching him was not going to cut it, but she could at least weaken him by doing so. She approached once more, ducking under his fist and bringing her own against his chest. She kneed him in the stomach a few times before striking at his head, but Nemesis recovered quickly, and when he next tried to punch her, the blow connected. Dizzy from the force of it, Alice stumbled, and several more rained down on her. She tried to fight back, but he kicked out her leg, forcing her to the ground. Desperate, she struck out at him, and when her foot collided with his chest, it bought her just enough time to escape.

She rose, and when she was a safe distance away from her enemy, she hazarded a quick glance over at Claire. The redhead was kneeling on the ground again with the others, and when their eyes met, it was all that she needed to strengthen her resolve to win.

Nemesis growled, and she approached him yet again. It was clear now that it was going to be a fight of attrition, until one managed to get the upper hand over the other. With fury and indignation burning inside of her, Alice raised her fists and began to hit him. This time, there was more force behind the blows, and she managed to knock him back against a steel beam. He turned around and pried a piece off of it, bending the metal as if it were thin plastic.

With his new weapon in hand, Nemesis swung at her, and each time the makeshift blade just barely missed. She ducked, hearing it whistle overhead, and when she rose, he pressed it against the back of her head and spun her around, throwing her down again. She rolled over on her back, and Nemesis was just about to stab her, when Cain tossed two of the telescopic batons to her. She used them to block it and rolled out of the way, jumping to her feet.

The air was full of the sound of metal clanging against metal as the batons clashed with the jagged piece of steel. In between the parrying of their weapons, Alice kicked out at him; when she managed to land a particularly forceful blow to his wrist, Nemesis dropped his. That was when she spotted the broken beam, which she could use to her advantage. She renewed her efforts, her foot connecting with his chest until the sharp steel pierced through him. She kept pushing Nemesis with her fists, anger and adrenaline spurring her on.

But as she continued to pound her hands against him, looking into his bright blue eyes, Alice remembered the man who Nemesis once was – who, on some level, he might still be: Matthew Addison. Cain had been right about one thing: in a way, they _were_ kindred, except Alice could still be some semblance of a human. Matt had lost everything: his sister, his humanity, and the noble cause that he had been fighting for. The most horrifying thing was that it could have been Alice; it could still be. Sickened and overwhelmed by it all, tears came to her eyes.

Alice whispered, "I'm sorry. Oh, Matt, I'm so sorry..."

"Finish him," Cain demanded. When she did not move, he repeated, "I said, _finish him_."

Shaking her head, Alice replied, "No." She turned to face him. "No."

"Don't you understand how important you are to me?" Cain asked. He flicked his eyes to Nemesis and then back to her. "That creature is one thing, but you... somehow you bonded with the T-virus on a cellular level. You adapted it; changed it. You became... _magnificent_."

Angrily, Alice objected, "I became a _freak_."

"No. You're not mutation; you're evolution. With my help, just imagine what you can achieve."

"What about him?"

Cain shrugged. "Evolution has its dead ends. Now, finish this. Put him out of his misery... and come with me."

Staring evenly back at him, she refused again: "No."

"You're such a disappointment to me," Cain stated, his face as sociopathic and emotionless as always. "All that strength... and no will to use it."

He was wrong: she had the will to use it; she was just biding her time.

With finality, he said, "What a waste." As Cain turned to walk away, Nemesis pulled himself off of the broken beam. While the former continued on, he began giving orders to his men: "Prepare for take-off. Sanitation of Raccoon City will begin on my mark."

Two guards came to stand on either side of Alice, to keep her from moving. Nemesis picked up his gun and Cain commanded, "Kill her."

The large weapon began to power up, and for some reason, she froze. As bullets began to stream forth from it, she flinched, closing her eyes and expecting the worst. But Nemesis was not shooting at her – he was killing the soldiers.

When they fell, more started coming toward her. Alice ducked into a roll, grabbing a gun from the nearest body and popping back up to shoot them. Then she ran toward the dome that was part of New City Hall, evading the others. When she had dispatched them all, a bright light focused on her: it was a helicopter.

A voice echoed down from it: "Surrender or we open fire."

She took off running, and they did precisely that. Glass exploded all around her as she moved through the circular structure, just fast enough to avoid getting hit. When she reached the end, she dove into a glass door in front of her, rising to her feet on the other side. There were three Umbrella soldiers waiting for her, all with rifles poised and ready.

Thinking quickly, Alice raised her hands, still holding the gun.

"Drop it," one of them said.

She complied, letting it go. She watched it fall until it was almost at the ground; then she dove to catch it, firing at them before they could react.

Alice looked over and saw the others huddled by the back of the helicopter; there was another one in the air, headed their way. As she ran out to help them, the searchlight focused on her again.

"Drop your weapon and surrender."

Ignoring the command, she turned toward it and started shooting at the cockpit window, but the glass was too strong. She was almost out of bullets, when Nemesis stepped up beside her with a land-to-air missile launcher. He fired it at the first aircraft, and as it exploded, the flame jumped to the other one, destroying it as well.

The force of the explosion threw Alice to the ground, disorienting her. She managed to sit up, but it was just in time to see a piece of shrapnel come flying at her head. It knocked her back down on the cold, hard floor, and with blurry vision she stared at Nemesis' body, which was now buried under the burning remnants of metal.

She lay there for a long moment before she felt gentle hands on her shoulder and face, turning her over. Alice blinked to clear her eyes, and Claire appeared above her, looking concerned.

"Are you okay?"

Alice nodded and smiled up at her in relief. Softly, she said, "You always manage to come to my rescue."

"Yeah, well, I'd prefer it if you just stayed out of trouble," Claire replied, though she smiled, too. She reached her arms around Alice and lifted her up, supporting her weight easily. "Come on, we have to go."

They headed to the intact helicopter, and the others were already inside. Jill had Cain by the collar of his shirt, her gun shoved under his chin.

"If you expect me to beg," Cain said, feigning bravery, "I will not."

Alice let go of Claire and grabbed him from Jill, walking him toward the open hatch.

"Wait," he protested as she forced him to the floor, her hand wrapping around his throat. "Killing me won't put things right."

"No," Alice agreed, giving his windpipe a squeeze for good measure. "But it's a start."

And with that, she tossed him over the edge, watching with satisfaction as he plummeted to the ground below. The rapidly growing crowd of undead were shuffling closer to him, and she thought that there was a sort of poetic justice to the fact that he would die by the hands – and mouths – of the monsters which he had helped to create. As they flew higher into the air, Alice observed them crowding around him, and her keen hearing picked up the sound of his distant, pained cries. Disgusted, she looked away: It may have been justice, but it was not pretty.

Claire's strong arms helped her up again and further into the aircraft. They settled down on one of the benches beside Angie, who asked, "Are you going to be all right?"

Alice nodded and said reassuringly, "I'll be fine."

Claire was still holding her close, and Alice smiled fondly at the redhead. She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, before letting her hand fall to cup Claire's jaw. With the enormity of the entire night hanging heavy over her mind and heart, Alice pulled the younger woman toward her, uncaring that the others could see, and pressed an urgent kiss on her lips. Claire returned it with equal fervour, no doubt spurred by the same realization as hers: they were lucky just to be alive.

Alice had almost forgotten that they were not alone, when L.J. whistled and said, "_Damn,_" drawing it out so that it sounded more like '_day-um_.' "Two fine ladies kissin' each other? Now _that's _what I'm talkin' about."

"_L.J._," Jill chastised, probably with a stern look on her face.

Alice just smiled, resting her forehead against Claire's. Not quite ready to let go of her, she gave her another slow, deep kiss, savouring the taste of her lips.

"Okay, guys, that's enough," Jill said. "Angie doesn't need to see this, and if you keep going, L.J. might actually drown in his own drool."

"Hey, I resent that."

"Resent it all you want; it's still true."

Alice laughed at the exchange and settled back in Claire's arms, closing her eyes, relieved to be putting Raccoon City behind them.

But the peace of the moment did not last long. From near the hatch, which was still closing, Carlos yelled, "Hang on to something!"

The bomb had gone off, and the helicopter began to shake violently, forcing Alice and Claire to separate as they grabbed for the straps that were fastened to the wall.

When the turbulence continued, a piece of metal came loose from the aircraft, and Alice watched as it whipped through the air, headed right for Claire and Angie. Without a moment's hesitation, she put herself in the way of its path, and it lodged painfully in her chest.

The world began to swim around her. She could feel Claire's arms holding her, and the blurry image of the younger woman's face was contorted with fear and distress.

Carlos exclaimed, "We're going down!"

Alice tried to focus, but everything was slipping away. She thought that she heard Claire say desperately, "Alice... baby, just hold on..."

And then there was nothing.

* * *

_Dun dun dun... (And yes, I changed a few things - yet again - in the ending here. It just seemed a bit too fluffy too soon, so I toned it down a bit. I hope that doesn't bother anyone.)  
_


	7. All the Right Moves

**Fandom**: RE: Apocalypse

**Pairing**: Alice/Claire

**Rating**: M (coarse language, mild suggestive themes)

**Disclaimer**: (see first chapter). I also don't own "All the Right Moves" by OneRepublic.

_A/N: I'm sorry if this chapter seems like a filler chapter... unfortunately, long stories sometimes require these in-between moments, and there isn't much that I can do about it. I tried my best to make it interesting, however, so I hope you'll still enjoy it. _

* * *

**Volume I: Apocalyptic Genesis**

_Six_: All the Right Moves

xxx

_They've got all the right friends in all the right places  
So yeah, we're going down._

_They've got all the right moves and all the right faces  
So yeah, we're going down._

~All the Right Moves, OneRepublic

xxx

"We're going down!"

The helicopter was spiralling out of control, rocked by such powerful tremors that it seemed as if it might shake itself apart in the air. Despite being jarred violently about, Claire managed to keep a firm hold on Alice, who was teetering on the edge of consciousness, her condition growing worse as blood gushed profusely from her mouth and chest – _so much blood_.

Hoping to prevent any further injury from befalling her, Claire cradled Alice's head with one hand; the other she pressed over the wound, attempting in vain to stop the blood loss.

"Alice..." Claire began, desperately, "Baby... just hold on..."

Their descent seemed to be getting faster; everything tilted around them as the ground drew ever nearer. For one brief, terrifying moment, Claire considered the possibility that this was it – they were going to die. She held Alice closer and braced herself for impact, hoping that there really was a heaven, and that they would at least be together in it.

The crash happened fast – faster than Claire could comprehend – and it seemed to shake the very marrow in her bones. But when she opened her eyes and looked around, they were still alive, somehow.

Alice was dead weight in her arms, and feeling weak from the force of the fall, Claire could not get out from under her. She was still trying to extricate herself when a sudden flame burst forth from the side of the aircraft, arcing in their direction. Claire had enough time only to close her eyes and pray for the best, but no pain came. When she opened them, she saw that Alice's body had once again acted as a shield, and now the entire right side of the older woman's face and torso was blackened and charred.

"Fuck," Claire gasped, before renewing her effort to get free. She needed to get them both out of there before any more damage was done to Alice. Damage – she realized, with a stab of guilt – which would have been done to her, had Alice not protected her so selflessly.

Carlos appeared beside them and asked her, "Are you okay?"

Without waiting for an answer, he reached out to help lift Alice off of Claire, and when she could stand again, they carried her out of the wreckage together. They set her down on a large rock close by, and dreading the worst, Claire hurriedly pressed her fingers to Alice's neck, feeling for a pulse.

With a surge of relief, she found it – it was faint, but it _was_ there. Alice was still alive.

"We have to go," Jill said, stumbling over to them on unsteady legs. "Umbrella could show up any minute."

"No fucking way," Claire replied, glaring. "I'm not going to just _leave _her here."

Carlos laid a gentle, sympathetic hand on Claire's shoulder and entreated her: "I know you probably don't want to hear this, but Umbrella is her best chance for survival. And the only way we can be of any help to her is if they don't catch us. We'll get her back, but right now, Jill's right: we have to go."

She looked down at Alice, who was staring up at the sky with unseeing eyes. She brushed some matted strands of blonde hair from her face and considered staying with her – consequences be damned. _But you wouldn't want me to, would you?_

It was the most difficult decision that Claire had ever had to make, but after a few long minutes, she acquiesced. She removed the camera from her pocket and handed it to Jill; then she took off her now blood-stained jacket and covered Alice's torso with it, as if to leave a piece of herself behind to look after her.

Before departing, Claire walked over to the waterfall that they had landed next to and used it to wash Alice's blood from her hands. The memory of it, however, would remain with her for a long time to come.

They made the trek out of the Arklay mountains mostly in silence, save for the occasional curse from L.J. as his foot got caught in an errant tree root or the jagged surface of a rock. On the way, Claire found herself having to blink back frustrated tears, born from exhaustion and the nagging concern that Alice might die – or worse, Umbrella might do something even more unspeakable to her than they already had.

Angie was walking beside her, and when Claire glanced over at the little girl, she was amazed to find that the young Ashford seemed to be just fine – despite having lost her father earlier that morning. In fact, when their eyes met, Angie seemed to perceive her emotional struggle, and she reached out to take Claire's hand in a gesture of reassurance and comfort. This show of remarkable maturity and fortitude gave Claire the strength to manage a thankful smile.

"Alice will be okay," Angie said, assuredly.

Claire nodded, though she was still doubtful. "I hope you're right."

After about half an hour of walking, they made it to a major road. Their dishevelled appearances soon prompted a kind, concerned stranger to pull over, and they all piled into his large van with tired and aching limbs. The stranger, a man named George Hummel, took them as far as the next city. At their request, he dropped them off at a small motel, which – lucky for them – had a restaurant attached to it.

People gaped at them as they entered, and the owner insisted on giving them food at no charge when they explained that they had been in a crash – though they refrained from being specific about what _kind _of crash.

They settled in at a large table off in the corner, to avoid drawing more attention to themselves than they already had, and set to their meal with voracious hunger – all, that is, except for Claire. Instead, she stared down at the cheeseburger on her plate with indifference.

Angie reached out to touch her arm. "You have to eat, Claire. Alice would want you to."

The others turned to look at her because of this, so Claire forced herself to eat it, not wanting to make a scene. But the knowledge that Umbrella had Alice by now – and were probably doing God only knows _what_ to her – rendered the otherwise excellent and enjoyable burger bitter and hard to swallow.

"So how are we going to pay for the motel?" Carlos asked, as he was finishing the last of his fries. "I was working, so I don't have my wallet on me."

"Shit," Jill cursed, with a look of realization on her face, "I don't either. I must have left it at the station."

L.J. produced a leather wallet from his jacket and flipped it open to reveal a host of various credit cards, which Claire had a sneaking suspicion were not at all legal. "It's cool. I got it."

"Forget it," Jill objected, narrowing her eyes at him. "I'm not committing credit card fraud."

With his fedora tipped to the side and a wide grin on his face, the latter seeming only to exacerbate her annoyance, L.J. quipped to her, "Once a cop, huh?"

As if sensing that Jill was an inch away from clocking him, Angie interjected, "My daddy gave me a Visa to use in emergencies... we could pay for it with that."

"Umbrella will probably be able to trace it," Carlos said, shaking his head. "I don't think it's wise."

Claire's fatigue was quickly catching up to her, so she decided to end the discussion, even though she was finding Jill's irritation rather amusing: "I have mine."

She had given little thought to it during the course of the evening – because who would think of such a thing when trying to escape a zombie apocalypse? – But she could feel the weight of her wallet in the back pocket of her pants, confirming that it was indeed still there.

Jill scoffed exasperatedly. "You could have told us that sooner."

Claire shrugged, too tired to bother fighting with her. Impatient, she rose from her seat and remarked, "Whatever. Can we go?"

The motel was a quaint, simple sort of place, if perhaps a little run-down. As they entered the lobby, Claire's gaze drifted to the small sitting area, which was comprised of a few comfortable-looking chairs in front of a softly crackling fire, and she thought of how nice it would be to just curl up in one of them with Alice. The idea only made her feel worse, so she shoved it aside.

An aged man by the name of Herbert was the proprietor of _The Wandering Traveller _– that was the name of the motel – and though he did not provide their lodgings for free, he did offer them a generous discount upon seeing how haggard they were. Claire paid for two rooms: both with only two beds, though the one had a pull-out couch as well.

"So, which of us is sleeping on the couch?" Jill asked, once she, Claire, and Angie were inside the room.

"I will," Claire replied, so eager to rest that she cared little about _where_. However, she was too exhausted by now to do anything more than settle for simply collapsing on it, without bothering to set up the bed. As she shut her weary eyes, she could hear Jill and Angie carrying on a conversation in hushed tones, and within minutes she was fast asleep.

xxx

It was mid-afternoon before Claire was roused by the loud rumbling of a large truck going by. She sat up, rubbing blearily at her eyes, and felt an immediate, sharp twinge in her lower back. _This was a bad idea_, she mused, regretting her laziness from the night before. _Where's an Aspirin when you need one?_ She stood with a yawn and stretched, working the kinks out of her muscles.

Jill and Angie were still asleep, so Claire decided to make a quick trip to a convenience store that they had passed on their way to the motel. The early autumn air was cool and refreshing as she walked at the side of the road, and when she came to a park full of kids, she stopped to observe them for a moment. They were laughing and shrieking in the joyful way that kids often do while playing, and their parents sat nearby on benches with keen, watchful eyes. It was such a _normal_ image, but after everything that she had just been through, it seemed nothing short of bizarre.

Aware that the others might wake up and wonder where she was, she continued on the short distance to the store. A bell jingled above her head as she entered, and the cashier at the till smiled in her direction, so she smiled back.

Claire picked up some Aspirin, a bottle of water, and a few other things to make the trip seem less frivolous, and she was just heading up to pay when she caught sight of that day's newspaper.

Its headline read: _DISASTER IN RACCOON CITY: METROPOLIS LEVELLED BY UNEXPLAINED EXPLOSION._

She set her items on the counter and snatched it up, skimming it to see what it said. Apparently Umbrella had not made the move to cover their tracks just yet – but that was a mere matter of time.

"Heard about that, have you?" the cashier asked, indicating the paper. Claire nodded. "That's really something... to think that a whole city can go up like that. I feel sorry for the poor souls who got caught up in it."

Claire looked up to meet the middle-aged woman's eyes. "Me too."

"So, would you like that, too, then?"

"Yes, please," Claire affirmed, handing it over to be bagged with the rest of the things. She asked for two packs of cigarettes as well, and then she paid for the lot.

With her purchases in hand, she hastened back to _The Wandering Traveller_. When she arrived some fifteen minutes later, as she had suspected, Jill was awake and extremely pissed off, but the newspaper and one of the cigarette packages was enough to distract the ex-cop from her ire.

While Jill perused the article, Claire took advantage of the opportunity to pop an Aspirin. Then she tossed a bag of Skittles at Angie, who grinned widely at the gift.

"Thanks! How did you know that these are my favourite?"

"No problem," Claire said, smiling. "And I didn't, but I figured that Skittles are always a safe bet."

A knock on the door halted any further conversation, and Jill opened it to reveal Carlos and L.J. With everyone up and ravenously hungry again – this time, even Claire – they went next door to the restaurant. They ended up ordering enough to feed more than twice as many people, and because it was a nice day, they decided to eat it outside at the picnic benches behind the motel.

As they ate, they began to discuss their next course of action.

"We need to get the tape out there as soon as possible," Jill began, showing the others the newspaper, "while we still have the chance. After they give their story to the media, it'll be that much harder to convince people of what really happened."

"So where do we start?" Carlos wondered aloud.

Jill continued: "Our best bet is probably to make as many copies of it as we can and send them to all the major news stations. All we have to do is get one of them to run the story, and the rest will follow. Then we'll see how well Umbrella can handle their dirty laundry being aired to the public."

They all agreed that this was the best plan they had, but Claire had a much more pressing concern nagging at her, which she could stifle no longer. She asked, "How are we going to get Alice back?"

It was a good question, and it hung in the air about them for a few minutes as they pondered it.

An idea seemed to dawn on Jill, so she turned to Carlos and said, "You still technically work for Umbrella, right?"

"Technically? Yes."

"Is there anyone you worked with, who you might still be able to trust?"

His brow creased as he wracked his memory for just such an individual. A moment later, a light sparked in his dark eyes, and he said, "Yeah... yeah, I think I know a guy. Why?"

"First, we need him to find out where they're keeping her. Then we can get him to help us forge her release papers, and we can use your ID to gain access to the facility. It might be a stretch, but we only need it to hold out long enough to get her out of there. Think your friend can do that?"

Carlos looked doubtful. "Yeah, but Umbrella will never fall for it. We'll be stopped at the door."

"So then we'll fucking _fight_ our way in," Claire interjected, unwilling to accept the idea of leaving Alice with Umbrella any longer than she absolutely had to. "I don't care what it takes."

"Claire... that would be suicide," the ex-soldier protested, meeting her eyes as if to implore her.

But it did little to shake her from her firm standpoint. Sure, she may not have known the blonde for all that long, but sometimes people can reveal more about themselves in an instant than they do in their entire lives. Alice had done that, had shown her great sense of compassion and altruism, when she risked everything to save them from Cain.

With conviction, Claire insisted, "Alice would do the same for any of us – she already _has_."

"Calm down," Jill said, fixing her with an even stare. "We'll get Alice out, and we'll do it without any ridiculous heroic stunts. You got that?"

Silence hung heavy for a moment after that, as they stared each other down, until L.J. raised his hand a little way into the air to get their attention. "Might I interrupt for just a moment, to point out that if we show up anywhere lookin' like this," he gestured to their dirty, torn, and singed clothing, "then they ain't gonna believe we tellin' the truth, anyway."

For the first time since they sat down, Angie spoke; there was excitement in her voice. "Does this mean we get to go shopping?"

xxx

At first, the plan of taking the tape to the media seemed to work effectively, as all of the major news outlets were abuzz with talk of Umbrella's supposed secret activities and a viral outbreak in Raccoon City. But the Corporation had friends in very high places, and within less than a week after it aired, the tape was completely discredited – shoved aside as nothing more than an elaborate, sick hoax. Umbrella's neat little story of a nuclear meltdown was, of course, much easier for the general population to stomach, and so it was soon accepted as the truth.

The next two weeks after that were spent working with Carlos' contact to get the release papers forged, once they figured out that Alice was being held at Umbrella's medical facility in Detroit.

They were headed there now, in a black van that Carlos' friend had been kind enough to provide them with, and as the miles between them and Alice quickly dwindled away, Claire felt nervous tension coiling in her chest. There were myriad questions running through her mind: _would they even be able to get past the front gate; would Umbrella really buy their disguises and forged papers; would Alice still be the same Alice that they had left behind; would Alice remember her?_

The others were quiet, too, no doubt wrapped up in their own thoughts, and the silence was not broken until they neared the primary gate of the large facility.

"Okay, Angie, get down," Jill said, turning to look at her from the front passenger seat. "Make sure that they can't see you."

Angie nodded and did as instructed, crouching low in the very back seat of the van. L.J. was sitting beside her, dressed as an Umbrella soldier, and he pulled a small black blanket over her to obscure her from view. Between that and the tinted windows at the back, it should suffice. Hiding her was necessary, because the presence of a child – especially Ashford's daughter – with them would betray their already tenuous facade in an instant.

As they pulled up to the gate, a soldier came over to the driver's side and peered in at them. Carlos wordlessly offered his ID, and while the guard checked it for verification, Claire held her breath. This was it: the moment of truth.

"Go right ahead, Mr. Olivera," the man said, stepping back out of the way.

And just like that, they were let inside. Claire could not help but think that it was _too _easy, and she wondered if Umbrella had some kind of nasty trick up their sleeve – like they had with the helicopter in Raccoon. Her .45 was holstered at her hip for just such an occasion, but she hoped that they would make it out without bloodshed: the man whom she had thrown the knife at was the first _living_ person Claire had ever killed, and though she would do it again if she had to, she was far from eager to do so.

They drove a short distance until they came to the main structure of the medical facility. It was comprised of twin glass buildings, erected like a mirror image of each other, with the road running betwixt them.

Outside the one to the left, Claire could see a group of soldiers gathered by the stairs, and when they pulled the van up to it, it became clear why: Alice was standing at the top, dripping wet, clutching at a lab coat that enveloped her otherwise naked frame. All of their guns were aimed at her, so that her torso was covered with glowing red dots. She must have been trying to escape, and their timing could not have been better.

Carlos and Jill got out, and though they had told Claire to wait inside, she pushed open her door and followed them.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Jill said, as the Umbrella soldiers lowered their weapons and turned to look at the new arrivals. "We'll take over from here."

"On whose authority?" a soldier without a helmet – likely the one in charge – asked, seeming suspicious.

Carlos stepped forward, handing him the release papers. "Classified: level six authorization."

The man read them over. "Sorry Sir."

The last few soldiers, who had kept their guns trained on Alice, stood at ease. Unable to wait any longer, Claire ascended the stairs and took off her black aviator jacket, wrapping it around the older woman's shoulders. Then she guided her down toward the van, helping her into the middle seat before climbing in herself. The others got in as well, and Carlos began to drive toward the exit.

At the gate, two guards came out to meet them. Carlos handed out his ID again, and while the guard was checking it, a phone began to ring. Claire's heart beat harder in her chest, certain that the ruse had been discovered, but a moment later they were given approval to carry on. The barrier gate rose, and Carlos pulled the van through and out onto the roads of Detroit.

When they were a safe distance away, Carlos hazarded a quick glance back at Alice and remarked, "Good to have you back."

Angie added, "Are you all right?"

Alice did not answer immediately; she looked at each of them and then at Claire, before she said at last, "I will be."

"What did they do to you?" Claire asked, noticing how she had this look about her as if she were not quite all there.

"I don't know," Alice replied, shaking her head. "But I feel... strange."

Claire wished that she could fix it somehow, but at the same time, she was aware of her own inefficacy to do so. Instead, she settled for simply wrapping her arm around Alice's shoulders and pulling her close, with the hope that she could at least help warm her up a bit faster. The gesture, however, seemed to bring Alice back to herself. With a soft smile, the blonde reached for her free hand, lacing their fingers together.

"Alice, I –" Claire broke off, not quite sure how to articulate what she was feeling. It was a chaotic mix of concern, relief, happiness, and a desperate desire to kiss Alice senseless.

As if Alice somehow knew this, she bridged the gap between them and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss on Claire's lips. It was the simplest of kisses, but after spending weeks worrying about her, Claire thought that it was probably the best she had ever had.

When they parted a short while later, Alice snuggled further into her embrace, resting her head on Claire's shoulder. Claire, for her part, closed her eyes and smiled.

She could get used to this.

* * *

_If you're re-reading this, you'll probably notice that I have altered the ending here somewhat. I might still make a few changes yet, as well, because I need to adjust the tone a bit. I apologize if you liked it better the other way, but I need to make sure that I get the development of Alice and Claire's relationship just right, so please bear with me.  
_


	8. Better Days

**Fandom**: Post-Apocalypse

**Pairing**: Alice/Claire

**Rating**: M (language, semi/mildly explicit sexuality)

**Disclaimer**: (see chapter one). I also don't own "Better Days" by the Goo Goo Dolls, from which the title of this chapter is derived. Nor do I own "Time and Confusion" by Anberlin.

_A/N: Hey everyone. I thought I'd just leave a quick note here to let you all know that I haven't given up on this story; I'm just incredibly busy with school right now. I'm not sure how long it'll be before I can get the next update done, so I just want to apologize for the huge delay. I would much rather be writing this fic, but considering how much I pay for university, I have to make it my priority right now. Sorry again, and thanks for bearing with me.  
_

* * *

**Volume I: Apocalyptic Genesis**

_Seven_: Better Days

xxx

_When memories fade,  
we've got each other.  
When time and confusion collide  
singin' I hold it all when I hold you._

~Time and Confusion, Anberlin

xxx

"How does everyone feel about a pit stop?" Carlos asked, as they neared an exit on the I-94. "I can barely see straight anymore."

His suggestion was met with a hearty chorus of agreement: they had been driving for several hours now, non-stop, in an effort to reach Chicago as fast as they possibly could, and all were eager for an opportunity to get out and stretch their legs.

They were headed there, Alice had been told, because Jill had a friend who lived in Chicago – a fellow ex-cop by the name of Barry Burton – and he had graciously offered to put them up for a while; at least, until they could figure out their next course of action. Considering their dearth of other viable options, it seemed like a sound enough decision. It also beat the hell out of motel-hopping for who knows how long.

Carlos pulled off the highway to a Wendy's just outside of Kalamazoo, MI. It was around one o'clock in the morning, so it was quite unsurprising that the place was practically deserted. The weary travellers piled out of the van, and while the others headed inside, Alice followed Claire around to the back to get some proper clothes.

"Do you ever get tired of being naked?" Claire teased amiably, while she unzipped a medium-sized red duffel bag. Then she began to produce a number of garments from within it, handing each of them to Alice.

Accepting these with a smirk, Alice returned, "Do _you _ever get tired of me being naked?"

"Touché," Claire replied, laughing.

The redhead closed the back of the van, and together they walked over to the restaurant, making a beeline first for the washroom to avoid anyone taking notice of Alice's state of undress. As there were only a few people inside, apart from their own group, they managed to achieve this with little difficulty.

"Here," Alice said, returning Claire's jacket to her. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," the younger woman replied. She donned it once more, meeting Alice's gaze as she remarked, "It looked better on you, anyway."

Alice smiled and swept her own eyes over Claire's figure. The jacket was tailored to look rather masculine – perhaps it _was _a man's jacket – but it suited the redhead perfectly. Furthermore, the masculine edge that it afforded her did nothing to obscure the features that made her breathtakingly feminine; instead, the two elements blended together into something that Alice found nothing short of irresistible.

"I beg to differ," Alice said, opening the door to the nearest stall and stepping inside. "I think it makes you look quite dashing."

"Did you seriously just say you think it makes me look 'dashing'?" Claire demanded incredulously, and though there was now a partition between them, Alice was certain that the look on her face would be very amusing.

"You heard me."

Alice set down the top of the toilet seat and laid her bundle of clothes on it, freeing her hands to remove the lab coat.

"Yeah," Claire said, her voice now coming from the stall beside Alice. "And I'm starting to think that Umbrella must've messed with your head."

"That's entirely possible," Alice replied, though there was still humour in her voice. In truth, she had no idea what had been done to her; at first she had felt an utterly bizarre sensation, akin to not being quite alone in her own head. Claire's presence, however, was sufficient to distract her from it, and the strange feeling had abated to a mere murmur in the back of her mind.

As Alice pulled on her new attire – socks, underwear, a black v-neck shirt, navy blue jeans, and a pair of functional but stylish black boots – she marvelled at the way in which a simple thing like being adequately dressed could make her feel that much more human. All jokes aside, it really was quite a relief.

With that done, she left the lab coat hanging on the hook – she had no need for it anymore – and opened the door. Claire was leaning against the wall near the sink, waiting for Alice, tapping her fingers on the counter in time with the music that was playing on the radio. If memory served correctly, it was something by John Mayer, and the fact that the redhead seemed to be enjoying it amused Alice – she had seen her wearing punk and metal t-shirts only, so it came as a bit of a surprise that Claire would like something so much softer.

_I guess there's a lot that I don't know about her_, Alice mused. That, however, just made her excited to learn more about the younger woman.

"Hey," Claire greeted warmly. "You ready?"

"Almost," Alice replied. Her hair was still a bit damp, and it was bothering her. So, to rectify that problem, she approached the hand dryer and bent down, employing it to get the last of the moisture from her hair. As she did, she noticed that Claire bit her lip, looking very much like she wanted to laugh. "What?"

"I didn't say a word," the redhead defended herself, but the wide grin forming on her lips did little to make her case.

Alice shook her head, which only made a bigger mess of her hair, and said, "You didn't need to."

When satisfied with its dryness, she walked over to the mirror and made an attempt to comb it with her fingers. But then she felt hands grab her waist, and Claire pulled her into a light, playful kiss, which Alice returned readily, smiling against her lips. As she happened to catch a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror, Alice thought, _we look good together_. And indeed they did.

"Mmm," Alice hummed in between kisses, "We should probably stop."

Claire seemed no more eager to do so than Alice was herself, but she conceded a moment later. They made their way out to join the others, stopping first to order their food. Alice was not especially hungry, so she just asked for one of the salads, but Claire opted for the Baconator and a large fries.

"Hungry?" Alice asked, with a hint of teasing in her voice.

Claire shrugged and grabbed their tray. "It's been a long day."

As they approached the table, Jill greeted them with a half-accusing, "What took you so long?"

"I was fucking Alice in the washroom," Claire replied sarcastically. This earned her an irritated look, so she added, "What do you think? She had to get changed."

Both Carlos and L.J. paused for a moment, as if imagining what she had said, before returning to their food. The latter, however, kept flicking his eyes back and forth between them in a less-than-surreptitious manner, and Alice had to bite her own lip to keep from laughing.

They were all rather tired – even Alice, though to a lesser extent – so the conversation was sparse while they ate, and soon they were making their way back to the van.

This time, Alice and Claire decided to sit in the rear of the vehicle. Claire settled in first, with her back against the side of the van and one of her legs spread out across the seat, allowing Alice to use her as a human pillow; quite a comfortable one, at that. It took less than an hour for the younger woman to drift off, but Alice was content to simply relish the warmth that she was soaking up from being nestled so close to the slumbering redhead.

Sometime later, she closed her eyes and let her hand wander to the one that was resting at her midsection. Tracing Claire's strong fingers and wrist, she delighted also in the almost possessive way in which she was being held. It was a wonderful feeling to be wanted by someone whom she actually wanted in return, and once again Alice felt a surge of affection for Claire.

It was funny, Alice thought, how life unfolded: She had been to hell and back in the last two months, yet here she was with this spirited young woman, who had somehow made so profound an impression upon her heart in such an incredibly short time. The concept had still not lost its novelty to her; it was one that not too long ago, she would have thought impossible. But even the sometimes jaded cynic in Alice could not deny that the redhead had changed her; it was beginning to seem odd, now, to imagine life without her. And that was terrifying, because Alice had a horrible, nagging suspicion that it was not going to last.

Her darkening thoughts, however, were soon interrupted by a soft kiss placed on her temple. Alice opened her eyes and looked up at Claire, who was drowsy but appeared no less content.

Her voice husky with sleep, Claire whispered, "Hey."

"Hey yourself," Alice replied fondly. "Did I wake you?"

"No. My back is just killing me." Not wanting to cause her any discomfort, Alice started to sit up, but the hand at her stomach held her fast. "I didn't say I wanted you to get up," Claire added, pulling her impossibly closer instead. She spoke against Alice's ear, as if to make sure that she alone was privy to the words, "I like you right where you are."

"You do, do you?"

"Mhmm," Claire hummed her agreement. She yawned and nuzzled her face into Alice's hair, and in a few minutes she was asleep again.

Alice smiled and closed her eyes once more, though she could do nothing but rest. As well as being an early riser by habit, she was also something of an insomniac, and she suspected that having the T-virus in her system did not help it any.

The rest of the trip to Chicago passed without event, and it seemed like no time at all until they were pulling up in the driveway of a large house. It took a moment to rouse everyone from sleep – Angie was so far gone that L.J. had to carry her inside – and they were met at the door by a large, bulky man with a gruff voice, who introduced himself as the aforementioned Barry Burton.

"Come on in," Barry said, stepping aside to allow them entry. "My wife and kids are staying at her mother's, so there's plenty of room for all of you."

L.J. and Carlos crashed on cots set up in the basement, while Jill took Angie upstairs to share the kids' room with her, and Barry offered the guest bedroom to Alice and Claire, after they asserted that they only needed one bed.

Claire was still quite lethargic, and within a minute of crawling into bed, she was already nodding off. Alice set the red duffel bag – which currently contained all of the redhead's possessions, and the few things that had been purchased for her – down by the dresser, and then climbed in under the sheets with her. She curled up against Claire's side, slipping an arm around her waist, and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Good night, Claire," she whispered.

The redhead mumbled an unintelligible response, and Alice closed her eyes, too.

Finally, she was able to sleep.

xxx

The first week at the Burton residence passed without incident; however, Alice found that almost more troubling than if it had. She knew Umbrella too well to assume that they had actually bought into the phony release papers, and so their motives for letting them go seemed, at least to Alice, rather suspect. But it was such a comfort to be among friends that she soon set aside those concerns, though they never left her entirely.

With each night that they spent in the Burtons' guest bedroom, Alice found herself growing all the more fond of it. It was a lovely, spacious room, with a large window and gorgeous antique furniture, including a rather Narnian-looking wardrobe, and a sleigh bed which made even Alice loath to get up in the morning. And, of course, it did not hurt that she had a stunning redhead wrapped around her every night.

At the moment, Claire was sitting in the windowsill, looking out with a faraway expression on her face. Concerned, Alice walked over to sit beside her.

"Hey," she said softly, resting her hand on Claire's knee, "you okay?"

Turning her cobalt eyes to meet Alice's, Claire replied, "Yeah, I'm just bored."

"Tired of me already?"

This prompted a soft laugh from the redhead. "Of course not. But we've been stuck here for a whole fucking week already with nothing to do... and it's starting to drive me crazy."

That was understandable: in an effort to keep off the radar, they had refrained from going outside unless absolutely necessary. Barry provided them with most of what they needed, except for clothing and some other essentials, which they had gone out on one occasion to procure. Apart from that, most of their days had been spent inside working on a plan to expose Umbrella. Though the initial attempt had failed, they decided to put the footage on YouTube in the hopes that they might reach more people that way – or, at the very least, plant a germ of doubt in their minds.

"How about we go for a walk?" Alice suggested, lightly trailing her fingers along Claire's leg. "There's a park not too far from here."

"I thought we were supposed to 'lie low'?"

Alice stood, taking hold of her hands to urge her up as well, and said, "One walk won't hurt."

"I guess not," Claire conceded. "But if we get in trouble for this, I'm blaming you."

Alice laughed heartily at that, and she was pleased to see that the redhead's own eyes shone with mirth, her mood seeming to lighten at the prospect of getting some fresh air.

Before heading out, they fetched their coats from the wardrobe: Claire grabbed her jacket, while Alice donned an elegant knee-length beige coat, which she had picked up for herself a few days ago. And, as it was now November, they both opted to wear a scarf, too.

They were just at the door, about to leave, when Carlos came up from the basement. With his brow furrowed, he asked, "Where are you two going?"

"Just out for a walk," Alice replied. "We won't be gone long."

Seeming unsure, Carlos said, "Okay. Just don't... draw too much attention to yourselves."

Alice smirked. "We wouldn't dream of it."

That did nothing whatsoever to assure the ex-soldier, but nonetheless, he made no effort to stop them. There was not a whole lot he could have done, anyway, even if he had wanted to.

Outside, it was an absolutely beautiful day. The air was crisp, but it had not yet taken on the biting cold of winter, feeling instead more like late autumn, and the sun shone with such warmth that neither was bothered by the occasional chill in the wind. As they made their way down the streets of Chicago toward the park, Claire tucked her hands into her pockets, and Alice, in turn, held on to her arm, walking close by her side. It was as good a disguise as any: there were plenty of other couples around doing the same; they blended right in, looking nothing like the fugitives that they really were.

They strolled along, passing some ducks swimming on a pond, and Alice marvelled at how normal it all felt. Sparrows chirped in the trees above them; some even hopped along the ground as they walked, picking up little morsels left by the human park-goers. Dogs barked, and various conversations floated in and out of ear-shot as other people came and went.

Soon, the smell of food wafted in their direction, and they came upon a small vendor, who was selling curly fries. Claire insisted on ordering some – it was almost noon, and they were both getting hungry – so Alice sat down on a bench nearby, waiting for her while she did.

The vendor was a middle-aged man with long, wispy blonde hair, and he looked very much like he had been a hippie in his day. He must have made some kind of joke, because Claire laughed, and it seemed to light up her entire face. Alice was aware that she was staring, but she did so unabashedly, for she could not have kept her gaze from the redhead if she tried.

As Alice watched Claire, her thoughts drifted to her mother. For years, Ellen Abernathy had told her daughter that she needed to _"find a nice boy,"_ but after Alice turned twenty-two and remained without a steady boyfriend, she had begun to add, _"... or girl."_ The first time her mother had said that, Alice had all but choked on her wine, for she had never given any indication of her bisexuality. Ellen had simply laughed and said, _"A mother knows these things." _Ellen had died three years later of breast cancer, and now Alice wished that her mother could be here to see that she had done so much more than just find a 'nice girl.'

It was the little things – perhaps even so little as to be trivial – which Alice had begun to love about Claire. The younger woman, she discovered, was a bit of a geek: Barry's kids had all the different video game consoles, and she had already spent quite a bit of time playing everything from _The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time_ to _Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater_ with obvious skill. Claire was also a splendid cook, had exceptional knowledge of countless movies, and came up with hilarious answers in a game of _Apples to Apples_.

When Claire came back over, fries in hand, Alice could not help but smile happily at her.

"What?" Claire said, as she settled down on the bench, munching on a fry.

"Nothing," Alice replied, taking one. "These look good."

"They're amazing," Claire affirmed. She also had a bottle of Coke, which she offered to Alice after sipping from it herself. They continued on in this manner for some time, just enjoying the amiable silence, until the redhead mused aloud, "You know, we never did go on that date."

Alice laughed. "Are we not on one now?"

"What?" Claire asked, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

"We're in a park; we're alone," Alice indicated the fries, "you bought us food. I believe that constitutes a date, don't you?"

Claire mulled it over for a moment, chewing a fry thoughtfully. "I guess you're right. I just had something else in mind – something a little more... _romantic_." Alice could not help but chuckle at that, and the younger woman seemed unsure of how to take it. "Is that funny to you?"

Alice, seeing her mistake, shifted closer on the bench to give Claire a soft, reassuring kiss.

"No," she said, stroking her cheek adoringly and giving her another kiss for good measure. "I was just wondering what I did to deserve you."

This seemed to do the trick, for it earned a bright smile from Claire, who leaned in to initiate a longer, more intimate kiss. It was the kind that sent a wonderful little thrill up Alice's spine, and she allowed herself to get caught up in it for a moment, before she broke away to caution, "The fries will get cold."

"So let them," Claire replied, setting them on the bench behind her so that she could close the gap between them properly. She stretched one of her arms out along the back of the bench, and her other hand came to rest at Alice's hip, holding her close.

They kissed languidly, letting their mouths come together and part again at an unhurried pace, sometimes sucking at each other's lips, and sometimes flicking their tongues together. While they did, Alice reached up to tuck an errant strand of red hair behind Claire's ear, and her hand lingered there, her thumb rubbing softly across Claire's jaw as their kisses grew deeper.

"I thought," Claire said, kissing the corner of Alice's mouth, "we weren't supposed to..." she nipped at Alice's lower lip, "... draw attention to ourselves."

"Plenty of people kiss in the park," Alice responded, sucking Claire's tongue into her mouth briefly. "But we could finish this at home, if you'd like."

This suggestion went over very well; Claire got up, tugging a laughing Alice with her, and began to walk briskly back to Barry's house. The half-finished fries and bottle of Coke remained behind, though neither woman cared what became of them.

Upon entering, Alice could hear the others talking in the kitchen, but it seemed as if they were so occupied with lunch that they had not noticed their arrival. She and Claire snuck upstairs, and the door had just barely closed behind them before they were engaged in a hungry kiss. They shed their jackets and clothes in a blur, and soon Alice's bare back was colliding with the mattress.

Claire climbed between her legs, hovering over her with a grin, like a hunter zeroing in on its prey, and Alice looked up at the redhead wantonly. She reached her hands up to trail over Claire's taut stomach, letting them wander around to grip her equally firm backside, and then she pulled the younger woman down, eager to feel Claire's naked skin against hers.

Alice moaned low in her throat as Claire's fuller breasts pressed into hers, and she tugged at the back of Claire's neck to draw her in again, their tongues playing together in a series of hot, needy kisses.

Alice nearly whimpered in protest when Claire rose from the bed, and then she _did _whimper, as the redhead grabbed her legs and pulled her toward the edge, dropping to her knees. Claire eased her thighs apart, pressing sucking kisses first at Alice's abdomen and then on her inner thigh. Alice watched Claire just long enough to see her mouth descend to the apex of her thighs, before her head fell back against the mattress, soft, pleasure-filled gasps escaping her lips.

It was not long until her hips began to squirm, lifting up from the bed to press closer to Claire's mouth, and her hand fisted roughly in fiery red hair, while the other clenched the sheets. Pleasure was coiling low in her belly, and a moment later, as Claire circled her clit with her tongue and sucked on it, Alice bit her lip to keep from crying out, for that was all it took to induce the best orgasm she had ever had.

When it had subsided, Claire climbed up to lie beside her on the bed, idly tracing the freckles on Alice's neck with her tongue.

"If I had known it would be this good," Alice began, kissing her, "I would have blown off work to go to dinner with you."

"Trust me," Claire replied, grinning, "I'm just getting started."

And when they finally wandered downstairs at around four thirty, ravenously hungry, Jill gave them one glance and returned to the book she was reading, mumbling, "I don't want to know."

xxx

Alice had always loved doing laundry: She enjoyed the smell of detergent and fabric softener, and almost nothing beat the feeling of warm clothes straight from the dryer. When she was living in the mansion with Spence, Umbrella had provided them with a laundry service, and he had always thought her strange for insisting on doing it herself. Now, when she had days in which she sometimes felt entirely inhuman, it was grounding to do something as trivial and normal as laundry.

So it was that she came to be perched upon the dryer, waiting for what few clothes she owned to finish washing. The only thing not going through this cycle was the pair of pyjama pants that she had on, so she stole Claire's Metallica t-shirt to wear for the time being. It was a bit large on her, as it was on Claire – which, she suspected, probably meant that it had originally belonged to Chris – but it was comfy, and it smelled like her.

"There you are," Claire said, as she appeared in the doorway. "Why'd you disappear? You missed me kicking Carlos' ass at Halo."

Alice smiled. "I'm doing laundry."

Claire gave her an adorably bemused look, which only grew more so when she noticed Alice's attire. "You're wearing my shirt."

"Mine are all in the wash."

Recovering from her confusion, Claire came over to stand in front of Alice and remarked, "Already stealing my clothes, huh?"

They shared a quick kiss, and Alice trailed away from her mouth, kissing and nipping along her jaw. She felt Claire's hands on her thighs, pulling her forward and against the younger woman's body, and she said softly into her ear, "Well, you know what they say about two women in a relationship."

There was a slight hitch in Claire's breath – so slight, in fact, that anyone without Alice's heightened sense of hearing would not have noticed it. But Alice did, and she wondered for a moment if perhaps the redhead were not quite ready to put such a definite name to what they had. Even more, she marvelled at the fact that she _was_.

Claire pulled back to look into her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"I am," Alice replied. "With everything that Umbrella has done to me... most days, you're all I can be sure about."

Her words hung in the air between them for a moment, and Alice watched intently as Claire looked down, emotion flickering in her beautiful blue eyes. But then she gave a soft, happy laugh, and when she met Alice's gaze again, her smile was wider than Alice had ever seen it before.

"That was really sappy, Alice."

"What can I say? You inspire it in me."

Claire's grin widened, and they drew together for another kiss.

It was moments like these, with Claire's lips and hands on her, in which Alice forgot all of the terrible things that had happened – forgot even that she had the T-virus swimming in her veins. All of it melted away, replaced by the wonderful heat of Claire's mouth and the soft caress of her tongue, and she wished that they could just stay like that forever, wrapped in each other's embrace.

"Whoa! Sorry," Barry said. "I was just coming to get a beer... don't mind me."

The Burtons' laundry room led out to the garage, where they kept the spare drinks in winter, for it acted like a natural refrigerator. The burly man hastened out to grab the aforementioned beverage, and then he hurried just as speedily back into the house, making a point of not looking at them.

"Christ," Claire muttered, burying her face in Alice's neck. "Why the fuck are we always interrupted?"

"We do have a bedroom," Alice pointed out, letting her head fall back as Claire began to suck at a particularly sensitive spot, "with a door... that locks."

"I know," Claire said, trailing her fingers toward the waistband of Alice's pants, "but I want to do this here."

Alice grinned and kissed her again. "We have to be quick."

Claire, as it turned out, had no difficulty with that: the redhead's fingers were so adept that it took only a few minutes before Alice came crashing over the edge, her cries swallowed by deep kisses which stole her breath away.

When she had recovered enough, and they had both made themselves presentable, they headed back to the living room to join the others. Claire took up her former position in one of the reclining chairs, and Alice settled into her lap, watching the current game of _Super Smash Bros_ with amusement.

"Where were you?" Carlos asked, hazarding a glance over at them in between trying his best not to be beaten by Angie.

"Doing laundry," Alice replied casually, though she could not help the hint of a grin that tugged at her lips. "Claire was helping me."

Jill rolled her eyes. "I bet she was."

Barry coughed. When they all glanced at him, he said, "Sorry, beer went down the wrong tube."

Alice's grin widened, growing mischievous, and she turned slightly in Claire's arms, kissing her.

"_Shit_," L.J. said, drawing it out into several syllables, "usually I gotta pay for this kinda thing."

"For the love of God," Jill added, "cut it out. In case you've forgotten, Angie is still with us."

The ten-year-old in question shrugged, not taking her eyes from the screen. "Actually, I don't mind." The adults all shot her a questioning look, which she seemed confused by. "What? They're just kissing... what's the big deal about that?"

Alice laughed and settled back in Claire's arms, until it was the redhead's turn to go against Jill. That match in particular was highly amusing, and because the two women were so competitive, it soon became several. Neither managed to gain an advantage over the other, however, so they gave up after a while.

Several hours later, when they were all exhausted from staying up far too late, Alice dragged Claire back to their bed and made love to her again, slowly and thoroughly, determined not to waste a single moment of their time together.

* * *

_Now that I've got this fleshed out better, I should be able to start on the next chapter soon. I apologize for the delay, but it was something that I needed to do._


End file.
